


Dance of the Dragons Book 1: Water

by Archaeologyfiend



Series: Dance of the Dragons [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, Fem!Agni, Kinda starts as AU but diverges wildly after Book 1, Spirit World, Spiritual Intervention, Tags may be added later, agni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11968935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeologyfiend/pseuds/Archaeologyfiend
Summary: Two dragons, two heirs, one secret... and one Avatar. Or at least, there should be. But the world has been at war for a hundred years and the spirits move on, finding one small boy on a beach... a boy who could quite possibly change the world.





	1. Prologue: The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an ongoing work that will have very slow updates as it is a behemoth. So be aware of that. Also I chose the name of this fic a few years ago before I had even heard of Game of Thrones so the name of purely coincidental and has nothing to do with A Song of Ice and Fire XD!

The beach was all but deserted save for the boy. He was sitting near the waves, staring into their murky depths as if they were able to give him the answers that he wanted. There was nothing unusual about the boy in appearance really. Black hair, pale skin, the usual gold of a fire-bender’s eyes. However, this boy’s eyes were more of a pale gold rather than molten, a fact that seemed to disturb most of the occupants of his house, whispered about behind closed doors and out of earshot. But of course, no one mentioned this to _him_.

The real question was why a small boy, barely older than six years of age, had been left unattended on a beach upon an island that had once been known for roaming dragons. He, his sister and their mother had been brought to the island as guests of their Uncle, a man who was currently attempting to make peace with the inhabitants whilst also threatening them with the destruction of the dragon race (not hard since there were all of four dragons left). Of course, the little boy didn’t know any of this and it was surprising that his mother had yet to notice his absence. She was usually the first to come looking.

The boy let out a long suffering sigh, wondering what it was that had turned this day so wrong. In theory, he was accompanied by two of only three people who cared about him and the other was being kept in check by their mother. And yet she _still_ had to show him up, a mocking smile as the blue dragonlet crept up to _her_ and not _him_ , the _eldest_. It would be just another thing that she could do better at than him and he had decided that it was better to walk away rather than bear another argument with her. It was easier to avoid an oncoming fight than run straight into it.

However, the boy hadn’t noticed a pair of golden eyes watching him from the bushes. Slowly, the deep red dragonlet crept forwards, pausing whenever the boy shifted or made a sound (and being a small child and no exception to the rule that all small children must move around every five seconds, this was a frequent occurrence). The boy didn’t see the dragonlet at all until something brushed against his arm, a soft crooning sound coming from its throat. He jumped sideways, away from the creature and stared as the thing gave him a hurt glance, jumping away just as quickly as he did. Fear, hurt and curiosity warred within the creature’s eyes and the boy paused in his movements to run away. This tiny creature was just as afraid as he was.

“H-Hello,” the boy said tentatively, slowly lowering himself back to the ground. The dragonlet leaned away from him, teeth bared at the sound of his voice. “It’s alright,” the boy said, voice now calmer and soothing rather than afraid. “I won’t hurt you.” He held out a hand, offering the little thing comfort with his own small body. The dragonlet sniffed his hand, decided that since this was not something ready to harm it or that it wished to eat, slinked closer, coming to rest draped over the boy’s lap. This action revealed a gash in the creature’s left flank, something that was not very visible on the red skin although now very apparent.

“You’re an outcast too, huh,” the boy said, small hands tracing the smooth curves of the dragonlet’s head and body. He was no longer afraid, rather, curious. His sister had a dragonlet except hers was bigger than this one, more ferocious and would attack anything that moved even an inch in its direction. This dragonlet was far friendlier, although it had proved more that deadly if provoked. The stench of a fresh kill surrounded the creature, clearly fending for itself. The dragonlet crooned in agreement, nuzzling the boy’s hands back. A smile graced the little boy’s features, for once happy on this afternoon.

They sat like that for a while, boy and baby dragon, content in each other’s presence, until the boy grew bored as all little boys do. Anyway, he hadn’t come to the sea just to mope. There was something he was curious about too, something he had yet to show to his parents although he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Father would probably attempt to kill him and Mother would tell him to hide it or not do it at all, which made him sad. He wanted to practice at every opportunity and now was one of them. The beach was deserted save for him and the dragonlet. And his new friend would surely approve.

“Wanna see something really cool?” the boy asked the dragon, shifting to stand. The dragonlet jumped from his lap and lay upon the sand, eyes waiting and curious. Slowly, the boy closed his eyes and slid into a stance that had not been seen by one alive for many years. _Breathe in… and out…_ the voice in the boy’s mind whispered, encouraging him on. A determined little smile played about the boy’s lips as he began to move and as he did, the air moved with him. A rustle of leaves captured the dragonlet’s attention, caught in the swirling breeze around the little boy and it jumped, snapping at them. The boy opened his eyes and laughed at the dragon’s enthusiasm as it turned excited golden eyes on him, almost seeming to say _do more, do more!_ And he complied. He shifted again, this time stamping his feet while still move his arms in graceful swirls. The breeze kept going but now pillars of earth shot upward, the dragonlet chasing around them, flying, flapping and jumping on or through the path they made. It jumped and crooned, high and happy, and the boy’s laughter mixed into it. He stopped the earth movements, but carried on with the air and the dragonlet leapt into the column, dancing with the leaves. It turned to the boy, eyes wide and it was almost as if the boy could hear a voice whispering _dance with me!_

And he did.

It was not the first fire-bending that he had accomplished, but certainly the most powerful. A dance that was so ancient that it was taught by the statues of the elders, although the boy had never seen them. The breeze died, but both boy and dragon moved in perfect synchronicity, dancing together in a form that had yet to be seen by the royal family in nearly fifty years. The boy didn’t know this, or the dragonlet, but the two observers did.

The woman had finally noticed the absence of her son, turning to find him gone. She trusted her brother-in-law and the rest of the Sun Warriors (because they were the only _civilised_ words for them) with her daughter and new pet to leave in search of her favourite. She cursed herself for leaving him out, knowing that self-confidence was something that her son lacked due to constant lashings by her husband. It was careless, especially for her and she was ashamed to say that she had almost forgotten him entirely. She had left the moment she had noticed it, missing the hurt and angry expression on her daughter’s face as she rushed off, followed by the leader of the Warriors. This angered the little girl more because _she_ was the one with the dragon not her stupid elder brother who couldn’t do anything right.

The woman had reached the beach in time to see the end of the air dance and the beginning of the fire dance, stifling her gasps. This was something she should have anticipated, something that had been going on for at least a month. After all, her son spent an awful lot of time doing Agni knows what in the ruins where few seldom went and was one of the few things he hid from her. She could understand why.

“Zuko…” she whispered, now more frightened for his life than ever. Her son would die if her husband found out about this! And that was something that she _could not allow_ to happen. However she had forgotten the man behind her.

“A talented child with a gift from the spirits,” the Warrior observed quietly, his voice reserved so not to disturb the child and spirit animal below. The woman, known to most as Princess Ursa, turned her head sharply, all courtly manners lost in her fear and confusion for her son.

“What do you mean?” she snapped harshly, glaring daggers at the man. He simply shook his head.

“We here know only what Ran and Shaw reveal to us. This child and his sister are the great grandchildren of the instigators of the war with their strengths and weaknesses. It seems only natural therefore that the spirits have blessed this child with the gifts of the Avatar.” Princess Ursa kept a concerned look upon her face but she could not hide the slight quiver of her lower lip. The man respectively bowed his head so as not to see the young woman in such turmoil and to give her time to check her emotions.

“Why would the spirits do such a thing? Surely there is still the Air Nomad Avatar? And if not, then why have we not heard of a Water Avatar or one from the Earth Kingdom?” The man gave her a small shrug.

“I am afraid that Ran and Shaw did not divulge that information. But it seems that Prince Zuko has found the other dragonlet. I was sure she had starved to death.” The Priest said the words quietly, but Ursa still heard, turning to give him a sharp look. The man sighed and gestured towards the little red dragon now playfully fighting with her son. “The small one, Junsuina, was run out of the nest by the other, Lengkù. She put up little or no fight and we had not seen her since then, more than a month ago. She is smaller than she should be, thinner too, but healthy for a supposed runt of the nest.” Ursa blinked slowly, taking this in. It was crucial she knew all about the creatures before her. Her grandfather’s dragon had been named Fang, slightly less complicated than Junsuina and Lengkù, but nonetheless, he had been powerful. She had also heard tell that Fang had been driven out of the nest by Kirai, Sozin’s dragon, but had still survived. Junsuina was far from the powerless little thing they had originally thought her to be, especially with this new information she now had.

“Sometimes, we must feign being weak to return to fight another day,” she said quietly, watching her son. The Warrior nodded, withdrawing. Ursa gathered her feelings up and pasted a worried look upon her features as she descended the slope. She would be having a long conversation with Zuko later, but for now she simply needed to hold him and know that he was alright. However, before she reached the bottom of the slope, opening her mouth to call her son’s name calmly, something blue shot past her at lightning speed. Her worried call now turned into a scream.

“ _ZUKO_!” Zuko barely had time to raise his head before the thing was on him. He cried out as one claw sheared at his face, missing only by millimetres due to the fact that her son had raised his arm in the nick of time. That didn’t stop the claws from raking deep into his flesh, tearing to the bone. His scream was probably the worst sound Ursa had ever heard. The blue dragonlet reared back, ready for another strike… and was suddenly thrown backwards from the force of the red dragonlet slamming into it. The pair rolled across the sand, struggling and snarling, faint wisps of flame that was yet to be kindled rising from the mouths. Just as it seemed that the blue dragon was about to win, the red one bit deep into the joint connecting one stout leg to its body. The blue dragon howled, throwing itself away from the now savage little red blur, staring into pale golden eyes with an odd look of fear before scampering over to its new master. Azula surveyed the thing with disgust, shrieking as it tried to rub its bloody shoulder against her, crying pitifully in pain.

“Get away from me you stupid useless beast!” Azula screamed, a tiny jet of flames lashing out at the thing.

“Princess, you shouldn’t do that!” one Warrior shouted as she struggled to get away. Ursa didn’t know where to turn to first. Zuko was pale, his injured arm cradled in his hands, whimpering as the red dragonlet, now satisfied that her new spirit brother was no longer in danger, came to lie beside him on the grass, nudging him softly and crooning in a soothing tone. Azula, on the other hand, was stuck between a dragonlet that she _really_ didn’t want any more and the Sun Warriors, who were warning her not to send the pitiful thing away. Ursa knew that if she did that, especially after the bonding she had made with it, she would rip her soul to pieces and be forever after scarred. Azula seemed intent upon doing just that.

It was Iroh in the end that saved her from the choice. Noticing the commotion, he lent one hand on Ursa’s arm and whispered, “Go to Azula. I can handle Zuko’s wounds.” She nodded gratefully and glided towards her daughter catching her as she squirmed away from the beast that was following her like a lost puppy, its eyes wide and confused.

“Azula,” she said in her firmest admonishing voice. Her daughter stilled, knowing that that tone of voice meant trouble if she did the wrong thing. That usually meant more time away from father and instead learning how to be a lady and not a warrior. “You have bonded with Lengkù. He is yours forever and to throw him away would be unfair. Dragons are simply creatures like us in another form. Treat them with respect.” The girl scowled, wondering how she was supposed to deal with the shame of having a permanently deformed dragon on her hands.

“But he’s useless! He couldn’t stand up against that runt over there!” She gestured vaguely towards where Iroh was kneeling over Zuko, having made a makeshift sling and bandages from Zuko outer tunic. Ursa would have said something if it didn’t mean Zuko losing too much blood. Junsuina seemed to trust Iroh enough to bandage Zuko’s arm but was still keeping a close and distrustful eye on the man. Sometimes, Ursa wouldn’t blame her.

“This was a fight between two inexperienced dragons. Losing your temper over one little scuffle and sending him away will only do both you and Lengkù harm.” She pushed her daughter a little forcefully towards the dragons, ignoring her daughter’s furious look. “You will look after him or I will increase your lessons with Lady Jenga.” Azula shuddered at the mention of her manners tutor and turned to the bloodied dragon in front of her.

“Well, if you can’t help me out by fighting,” she whispered, glaring at the thing as it licked its wound and gave her an apologetic stare, “perhaps you can help me in other ways to annoy ZuZu.” 

* * *

_1 week later_

“And what can I do for you My Lady?” Master Piandao said, looking rather unimpressed by the child set before him. The boy stared back insolently, his right arm in a sling. A small red dragon slithered around his feet giving him an almost identical look to his own, unimpressed with the swords-master. After a few moments of deliberation the thing simply bared its fangs in a growl before settling on the ground, its eyes fixed firmly upon him. Piandao resisted the urge to snap at the boy to order the thing away. It wouldn’t do to show weakness in the presence of royalty.

“I want my son trained.” Piandao was not surprised by this request. Many nobles brought their children here to learn the art of the sword, annoyed when he turned them away. All apprentices must show that they are worthy, whatever their worth, before being taught by the master.

“And what has he brought me to show me his worthiness?” The little prince stared at up him critically, something that seemed out of place on a child that was too small and skinny for his age. Piandao had heard that there had been complications in the young prince’s birth, coming nearly two full weeks before the healers had predicted and always being small and frail for his age. The child in front of him showed some signs of this but there was a determination and fierceness in those eyes that reminded the man of himself at the age of nineteen, always intent on proving himself to those who were better, faster and more talented than himself. It was disconcerting on a child’s face.

“I haven’t brought anything,” the boy began, glancing around, the look suddenly gone and he looked now awkward and frightened like any six year old would be. “Nothing but my will and determination to learn.” A glance behind towards his mother and the shade of an approving smile told Piandao all he needed to know. This boy was criticised by all around him as unworthy, unwanted but for his mother. An attachment that would have seemed weak if not for the fact that without her, he would have no one. No one but the dragon that watched him constantly, as if waiting for the hint of a threat. This would need some careful deliberation.

“Training under me means there will be no exceptions. I will not treat you as a prince and you will not treat me as a subject, do you understand?” Piandao wondered if he was being slightly harsh on the child. After all, he was only six. But Zuko surprised him by nodding.

“Yes, sir. I promise that I will treat you as a master and be a worthy student.” _How does this child know all these words?_ Piandao wondered. Any _normal_ child of six would just be getting to the stage where they could pronounce words perfectly, no lisps, no ‘r’s pronounced as ‘w’s. This boy could not only talk properly, but as well as someone twice his age. Of course, he had more sense than to question this.

“Then we will begin at once,” he stated, nodding to Princess Ursa who gave him a cursory nod back, a happy smile in place. He wondered whether that was for his benefit or her son’s. Zuko just seemed wary all of a sudden, watching his mother as she turned away to leave.

“Do not worry Zuko. I shall return in a few hours. Enjoy your lessons with Master Piandao,” she said softly, turning again to give her child a peck on the forehead. Zuko scowled but made no other move to move away from her, something that was odd for a small child. Most boys his age would start to be embarrassed by the mere _presence_ of their parents, that or they would hide behind them constantly. Zuko had the attitude of neither.

Once the Princess was gone, Piandao gestured that the boy follow him and set off through the meeting room to a smaller one behind that opened onto the training courtyard. Piandao never chose a house that could not have a courtyard with multi purposes. His courtyard was a training ground, entertainment hosting and designed to please those guests that stayed with him. He did not expect too much from this boy. After all, he was still teaching his cousin, a boy who could have the potential to be a great swordsman if he applied himself further and sorted out his clumsy footwork. However, all fire-benders made the point that footwork only apparently mattered in katas rather than when moving around a battle ground, a fact that annoyed Piandao to no end. If one had to have perfect footwork for fire-bending, why not in this discipline too?

Shaking off his thoughts he gestured for the boy to sit at the table, bringing over a sheet of parchment and brushes and ink. He set them before the boy who studied them carefully before looking up at his master carefully, suspecting that all was not as it seemed. _Smart child_ Piandao thought, knowing there was more to the eye than ever before. The dragon had curled up in the fireplace, content to watch him over the curls of its own body, eyes a glinting pair of golden flecks behind hooded red scales. Piandao discreetly shuddered, wishing that Princess Ursa had taken the creature with her.

“The art of the sword takes more than just brute strength. You must have both inner balance and a sense of self to conquer the world around you. Since you are already injured, and I am certain your father would give me no thanks for making things worse,” _If your father took the time to notice you,_ Piandao thought, watching as the boy flinched slightly with the mention of his father, “the task I am about to set you is designed to help you discover these things for yourself. Today is humility. On one side of the page you shall write what you believe are your best qualities, on the other your worst.” This type of exercise would show which way the prince’s mind thought. Was he prideful and arrogant? Or introverted and self-loathing? Piandao had seen both types wander through his doors, anything from brutes to quiet snivelling children, and he normally could tell which was which the moment he set eyes on them. Zuko, however, seemed to be neither.

A sudden thought occurred to Piandao. Could this boy even write with his left hand? He assumed that the boy was right handed, as most people were, but to his surprise the boy picked up the brush thoughtfully, before writing headings on both sides of the page in neat calligraphy. He raised an eyebrow but kept his voice in the same commanding tone that he used all the time.

“Is that your natural writing hand Prince Zuko?” The boy looked up, startled at the sudden break of silence so soon. His head tilted to the side a moment, confused.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” There were no courtesies this time, his voice confused and defensive and yet still vaguely polite.

“One must not write about themselves in the hand they cannot use honestly. If that is not your natural writing hand, then it is not your natural sword hand and therefore you are not writing honestly.” He glared down at the young boy who scowled and suddenly the pride that all nobles had reared its ugly head.

“Well, it’s not for you to say which is my natural writing hand and which is not! And how can you tell if what I write with my right hand is as truthful as what I write with my left?” Pale gold eyes were flashing in indignation as the boy continued, his next statement shocking the old man ever more. “If you must know I actually write with _both_ hands depending on the day so I don’t _have_ a natural writing hand!” Piandao frowned. Ambidexterity was not an unknown trait in sword-craft but rare. Especially for one to have the ability naturally. Piandao himself favoured his right hand but had tried himself over the years to be just as proficient with his left hand so as to never be disadvantaged. It seemed a rare and potentially dangerous gift had been landed in his lap, ready to mould. And knowing this boy’s blood, knowing _all_ of this boy’s blood, it wasn’t astonishing that the boy in front of him was full of surprises.

“You will keep that disobedient tongue behind your teeth boy,” Piandao warned, not letting a hint of his shock bleed through. Zuko’s face froze instantaneously and Piandao wondered over the sudden terror flashing in those young eyes. The dragon in the fireplace reared its head, uncoiling and beginning to pace, angry with the emotional change he had caused in its young charge. A low growl emitted from its throat and Piandao laid a hand on his sword hilt, just in case. It would be a pity to kill the thing but self-defence came before the survival of a rare species. “Continue with your writing.” Zuko relaxed rather visibly and turned his attention back to the paper, eyebrows creased as he thought. A disturbing thought ran through Piandao’s own mind.

Zuko had tensed up, expecting to be hit. Somehow, through only a quick reprimand, Piandao had instilled the idea that he would bring the boy harm in Zuko’s mind. But why? _Come now Piandao,_ his mind murmured quietly, _is it really that hard to know why he is so afraid of what you might do?_ And the truth was, it wasn’t. After all make-up could only cover so much and Piandao had soon realised that however much Ursa may have been standing between her son and Ozai, there was still a considerable time that she couldn’t be there for him. Long enough, that even at six years of age, Zuko had come to the conclusion that speaking out or failure would inevitably lead to pain.

An hour later, the page had only been half filled. There were slightly more things on the ‘worst’ side than the positive, but that was to be expected after that reaction. He was surprised though at how conservative the boy had been writing things down since the other six year olds that had come under his care had instantly written down all they were good at as if that would please him. But it struck Piandao as he took the sheet of paper from the boy and studied what he had written that these were pretty standard answers. In the positive side he had written things that most nobles before with ‘prince’, ‘fire-bender’ and ‘better at…’ among them and only vague answers such as ‘unlucky’ or ‘slow’ written upon the other. This boy was holding something back, Piandao could just sense it. But what?

Before he could begin to question the boy further, his cousin arrived. Lu Ten always made a show of entering the room with a look of barely disguised amusement on his face but Piandao knew that that was just his nature. Lu Ten was actually very easy-going for a noble, although had the same ruthlessness as his father. And apparently, many of his father’s eccentricities too.

“Got any good tea brewing master?” the impertinent fourteen year old said as he joined them at the table. “I see Master Piandao’s already introduced you to the boredom of the ‘balance and self-worth’ lessons, cousin,” he continued, glancing down at Zuko’s list. Piandao noticed his eyes darken slightly at what was written, or probably what was _not_ written, before moving on to another topic entirely. “How’s your arm holding up?”

“It’s alright,” the younger boy replied, giving his cousin a criticising look. “And I don’t think these lessons are stupid. They let you know what is wrong with you and how you can improve them so you can turn your weaknesses into strengths.” Both Lu Ten and Piandao were taken aback by that statement, although in very different ways. Lu Ten had the look of someone not used to being put in their place by six year olds (not that anyone ever was) but Piandao was surprised the boy had realised the truth behind his exercises. At last, someone who appreciated the time spent in the theory rather than the practical.

“If you say so, kid,” Lu Ten said, looking a little put down, but ruffled his cousin’s hair teasingly anyway. The dragon then reappeared, jumping into the gap between the cousins and laying her head on Zuko’s lap as if to say ‘this one’s all mine’. Lu Ten jumped backwards, shaking his head. “I don’t think we’re ever going to have the same relationship again cousin. Your dragon loves all the attention.”

“Junsuina hasn’t had much of it in her life,” Zuko said solemnly, giving the creature a surreptitious cuddle. It crooned and then turned to Lu Ten with curious eyes, approaching him slowly and warily but not, Piandao noticed, looking at him with anything pertaining to a threat. Perhaps he had simply had the wrong reaction towards the creature to give it such a bad impression of him that it thought he was the enemy?

“Err, Zuko?” Lu Ten said, squirming uncomfortably as the little dragon sniffed at him, “what’s she doing?” Deciding that she liked the smell of him, Junsuina then curled up between them, draping her head over Zuko’s lap and her tail over Lu Ten’s. Zuko giggled at his cousin’s panicked look.

“She likes you silly!” he said, sounding for the first time like a six year old and not four years older. Piandao hid the shade of a smile, knowing that he had to be the one to break up the little family moment and move the lesson back on to relevant topics. Such as sword-fighting and the art of killing.

“Since you seem to believe that you have already come upon internal balance Lu Ten, how about you give Zuko a demonstration of your abilities? If you manage to defeat Hull this time, I’ll even let you have a shot at fighting _me_.” He knew that stroking nobles’ vanity was wrong but they fell for it every time, especially when attempting to impress members of their own family. Besides, Ursa would return soon and it wouldn’t do for Zuko to get _too_ bored. Focus had a thin line between boredom, especially when meditating.

After calling Hull to the yard, Piandao called up a servant to place out chairs for himself and Prince Zuko on the observation platform (also known as the top of the stairs) so that they could watch the oncoming match. It was very short and rather uninteresting really. Lu Ten spent too long trying to look good to actually _be_ good and so, within five minutes, Hull had disarmed the prince and offered him the chance to yield. Zuko hesitantly patted Piandao on the arm, his injured arm around Junsuina almost like a stuffed toy but not so hard.

“Is Lu Ten a bad fighter?” Piandao could not help the laugh at the innocuous question and shook his head. Oh, how he wished that the young could stay this innocent forever!

* * *

_4 years later_

Zuko ran down the halls of the palace, ignoring the shouts and cries of alarm as he barrelled through numerous servants towards his cousin’s chambers. Today was the day: the day that Lu Ten was leaving to join the ranks of the war. His cousin had refused the good position his birth would usually have given him, entering the ranks of the novice soldier a couple of years back, intent on working his way up like any other boy that joined the army. Uncle Iroh had not been too pleased with this but Lu Ten’s easy nature and hard work got him through many promotions to Commander of his own unit, although this probably had to do with first rate fire-bending teachers, Master Piandao’s daily swordsmanship lessons and the Dragon of the West as his father. However, none of this stopped Zuko for being terrified that he would never see his cousin again.

Behind him, Junsuina bounded to keep up, the corridors now too confined for her to fly. The dragon had reached double the length of his bed, although still insisted that she could curl around him at night. The servants, none too happy about the scales they had to clean out of the sheets every morning, complained that it was high time the dragon was shooed into the gardens where Lengkù had long since been confined. Azula rarely visited her dragon, and if she did, it was only to hone her already prodigious fire-bending skills. She, of course, thought that learning how to fight with swords and other skills relating to some of Zuko’s more… unconventional activities were useless, not to mention that she wasn’t particularly good at them anyway. Fire-bending came much easier to her than it did, supposedly, to her ambidextrous brother, rarely seen without his dragon or a cake filched from the kitchen.

A maid screeched as Zuko ran under her arms that were filled with clean washing. Junsuina knocked the woman flying but neither paid much attention, Zuko only quietly thanking the fact that he was small for his age. His father had commented on this many times in the past but his mother had simply replied that he would grow in time and that girls grew faster than boys initially anyway. Zuko couldn’t contend with this since his sister was nearly as tall as he was but _she_ had been born in the middle of the day, at the sun’s highest point. Zuko had been born in the dead of night, leading many to believe that the boy had little or no fire-bending prowess. Little did they know about him, his mother’s and his uncle’s quiet jaunts to Ember Island for more than just ‘Love Amongst the Dragons’. It was still his mother’s favourite play though.

Lu Ten was just finishing packing his bag when Zuko tumbled through his doors. He raised an eyebrow as his cousin picked himself off the floor and glanced behind him to check that Junsuina hadn’t come to any harm.

“Did you forget to slow down for the doors cousin?” Lu Ten asked as Zuko caught his breath. He knew all about Zuko’s little secret but had sworn never to speak about it to anyone to the boy, especially not in the palace where anyone could hear which was why, when Zuko went to practise, he would do so in the ruins of the old Throne Room where great grandfather Sozin had gotten his ass handed to him by Avatar Roku.

“I didn’t think we would get back in time,” Zuko panted, leaning against Junsuina as she curled around him. “I didn’t want to let you leave without saying goodbye.” Lu Ten smiled and wandered over to his cousin and ruffled his hair. Zuko gave him a scowl but it was very light compared to what he usually gave out, normally to those he didn’t like.

“Did you really think I would leave before giving you something to remember me by?” Lu Ten said in feigned hurt.

“The soldiers outside are waiting to leave. I thought you would have to leave whether I had seen you or not,” Zuko said quietly as Junsuina looped around his feet. Her head reached his knees and she sent Lu Ten a friendly growl as she wound past her spirit-brother and further into the room. The sounds of muttering servants could be heard through the open doors and Lu Ten concealed a smile at the regular bunch of complaints that Zuko usually left in his wake.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have left without at least saying goodbye,” Lu Ten said, gently closing the doors and beckoned Zuko to follow him as he wandered over to a chest that he usually stored his best armour within. “Here. I know Master Piandao says that we have to forge our own but I had these specially forged for you by his master blacksmith. I _think_ he approved.” Lu Ten paused a moment trying to decipher the strange look that Piandao had given him when handing him the package.

“What is it?” Zuko asked as his cousin handed him a long package wrapped in red cloth.

“Open it. You’ll see.” Carefully, the boy pulled the cloth from the package to reveal a broadsword sheathed in a simple black leather scabbard. A small decorative piece of gold enveloped the end but Zuko was more concerned with the blade. Or rather, blades. He pulled the sword from the scabbard to find that they were in fact two swords, two halves of a whole. He stared at them a moment before looking up to his cousin, an excited glint in his eyes.

“Thank you Lu Ten!” he cried, hugging his cousin around the waist. Lu Ten laughed, ruffling his hair again before returning the hug.

“Now, you remember to practise Zuko. With the swords and the, err… other stuff too. I’ll want a demonstration when I get back,” he said, an amused glint in his eye.

“You have to promise to not die first,” Zuko said, determination in his gaze as he pulled back. Lu Ten could see the worry in the younger boy’s eyes and for a moment felt clueless as to what to do. After all, he was an only child. But years of looking after his cousins had taught him how to deal with younger children and he did consider Zuko a brother, no matter the fact that they had different parents. He carefully knelt before his cousin so that he could look the boy in the eye, hands on Zuko’s shoulders.

“I promise you cousin, I will return no matter what.” For a moment, Zuko believed him.


	2. The Boy in the Iceberg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, before we start the real meat of this story. Zuko may be a bit OOC in this- I have tried to make him as accurate to show Zuko as possible, but obviously this will change due to the nature of this story being different to that of the show. Therefore, he starts and sort of stays (mostly) more of his Book 3 self attitude rather than angry-firebending- desperate- exile that he was in Book 1. If this troubles you, then don't bother reading any further.

The creak of the ship was still unnerving at times. Zuko lay listening to the now familiar sound of creaking machinery and the slapping of waves against metal and wondered how his life had come to this. Everything he had held dear had gone; everyone except Uncle. The fact that he was with him on this trip should have eased the pain and yet now it was torture. The only people on the ship who knew his secret was himself and Uncle, he couldn’t trust that there wasn’t someone in the crew who was reporting back to his father. Probably to tell him how much he was failing in capturing the Avatar.

For a moment, Zuko thought he heard the flapping of wings and his heart lifted for only a moment before remembering that it was probably only an owl-cat or something. He was never going to see Junsuina again in all likelihood. Of course, very few people knew that she even existed and bringing a hundred-foot long dragon on a trip like this would spread the word that dragons were not an extinct species. He couldn’t afford to anger his father any further than he already had.

Zuko sighed and pushed the thoughts of loneliness and melancholy away as he did every morning. This was not the purpose of his mission. He was to find the Avatar, capture him, take him to the Fire Nation and regain his honour and title. Nothing else mattered other than getting home. Of course there wasn’t much left at home but going home would be an advantage for the people of this world. Zuko didn’t want war. He had seen what it had done to the many nations he had travelled through, not to mention his own experiences. An end would prevent the Fire Nation falling into bankruptcy and prevent the inevitable backlash that the end of the war would bring to the Fire Nation. If he wanted his country to survive, _they_ and not any other nation had to instigate this change. He wanted his people to live not barely survive.

He groaned and dragged himself out of bed. The floor was cold to his bare feet and he repressed a shudder, not only from the fact that as a fire-bender he preferred the heat to the cold but also because it didn’t bother him so much. A part of him, small and buried and _must not be seen_ rejoiced at the cold touch, at the feeling of _push_ and _pull_ and… _Agni, stop it!_ Zuko thought clutching his head a moment as his concentration slipped. This happened a lot now, being here amongst the water rather than the heat from the sun. The Polar Regions, especially in the winter, were known for being either dark or sunny. Down south, the sun ruled but it was weak and could not overrule the water no matter how long it was out (and approaching the winter solstice that was most of the day). He growled internally, knowing that he needed to get a grip on this.

_“No matter what Zuko, you must never show anything but fire to the people around you. Promise me, you won’t practise anything but fire in another’s presence!”_ Zuko had kept that promise ever since he had made it at the age of seven but at times like this it was hard. Three years at sea and every day it seemed to call a little louder. He silently shouted at the little voice in his head that was doing the incessant calling to shut up before scrambling into his armour and out on deck for fire-bending practise. The sun and feel of heat would chase away these stupid urges. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, his day was doomed from the moment he stepped out of his room, nearly crashing into Lieutenant Jee. The man sneered at him and Zuko returned his look with a glare of his own.

“Your uncle is waiting for you at the helm,” Jee snapped, annoyed that he had been used as a messenger. Zuko suspected the man was actually pissed that he had been promoted on an exile’s ship but his crew _was_ filled with all the indispensables of the Fire Nation fleet. The cook was a rejected naval officer; the fire-benders drop-outs from the Naval Academy and the rest (other than Jee) were either dismissed sailors of questionable honour or had failed the entrance exams. All had been ecstatic about their new jobs, at least until they heard what it was and what it entailed. Then they all directed their hatred towards Zuko who, having just had half his face burnt off had _not_ been in a forgiving mood and made things just that much harder for them. Realising, too late, his mistake of pushing away the crew, Zuko had resigned himself to acting the bratty prince which, considering his frustration over bending and failing at finding the Avatar, wasn’t hard.

“Dismissed Lieutenant. Find me three volunteers for practice later on deck,” Zuko ordered, already walking away from the man. He _needed_ that practise and soon. It wasn’t just the water calling to him now and Zuko was glad they were nowhere near any earth at the moment. He didn’t think he could handle _three_ foreign elements calling to him at once. Agni, how did the Avatar deal with this? _Probably doesn’t considering he hasn’t been seen in nearly a hundred years. He’s most likely dead and this is nothing but a wild goose chase. Might as well give up and pretend to be a waterbender._ Zuko shook off those thoughts as he climbed the ladder to the control room/helm. The helmsman was probably the friendliest of the lot, having once accidently caught Zuko sneaking off the boat and had promised that Zuko’s midnight adventures when they were moored would stay strictly between them. In fact, Zuko actually quite liked the man although he would die rather than admit it out loud in front of _this_ crew.

“Ah, nephew,” Iroh said as he entered the room. The smell of tea and roast duck wafted over to Zuko, making his stomach growl. It probably wasn’t a good idea to skip breakfast most mornings (although that was more to a lack of variety in every meal than anything else. There was only so much seafood one could handle). Hearing this, his uncle looked up from the Pai Sho board, smiled brightly at his nephew and handed him a bowl of his favourite meal. Zuko might have made a face if he hadn’t learnt by now that to turn your nose up at roast duck would mean extra work later in practise that would leave you exhausted. And anyway, roast duck wasn’t all _that_ bad, it just got boring after three years living off that and fish. What Zuko wouldn’t give for a plate of fire flakes right now! “It seems we are close to the Southern Water Tribe. I was wondering whether we ought to turn back north or carry on going on this particular direction.” Zuko internally sighed and thought about it for a moment.

In truth, Zuko had been paying attention to where they were. Another day or so and the village would be aware of their presence and as little threat as they were to him, he didn’t really want to panic them. It wasn’t like they were _going_ to the tiny village anyway.

“Keep this course for one more day, and then turn north.” Zuko returned to his bowl of food as his uncle contemplated his words. “I want to make sure we don’t miss anything.” He couldn’t help hearing his uncle’s quiet sigh, no matter how much he tried to tune it out. He knew his uncle wanted to settle down somewhere, maybe open a tea shop and mourn his son in peace. But instead, he had chosen to accompany Zuko on a pointless chase of a phantom that hadn’t been seen in so long and probably never would be. He had followed Zuko into exile, never to see his country of birth ever again and Zuko didn’t want that for him. There was so much tied up to capturing the Avatar that failure wasn’t an option. He _had_ to do it, if not for uncle, then for his people and his sister’s sanity. That is, if she hadn’t lost it already.

He finished his breakfast in silence, waiting for his uncle to finish his respective Pai Sho game with the cook. The man had yet to learn that there was no winning against Iroh. The man was too crafty by far, no matter his eccentricities. Then again, they also thought that Zuko was weird as well, having to pause every once in a while to check that he was bending the right element and hadn’t given himself away by accident. Right now though, they _really_ needed to turn north before Zuko actually did give away his secret but he had to be sure the Avatar wasn’t here. And he had to be absolutely certain because he had made up his mind that he wasn’t returning to the poles again after this trip.

* * *

Katara really wondered about her brother at times. Currently, Sokka was checking his own muscles out in the water and generally being a sexist idiot as usual. She sighed and gazed into the water, wondering what would happen if she tried catching dinner with her water-bending. As novice as she was with it, she was fairly sure that this wouldn’t end how the last few times had ended. And honestly, if Sokka hadn’t shouted about catching his own fish last time, they wouldn’t have gotten wet.

Pulling off her glove, Katara took a deep breath and concentrated on the push and pull of the water. She had learnt to flow _with_ the water rather than against it and she enjoyed the sense of cleansing that the bending brought to her. She gasped as she watched a bubble of water rise from the water, fish swimming in it. She gave a happy little giggle as she danced the ball over her head, crying over her shoulder, “Sokka, look! I got one!” Unfortunately the moment ended when Sokka pulled back to spear his own fish, puncturing her water bubble and sending dinner over the side. She watched as her brother tensed up, looking over to glare at her.

“Why is it,” Sokka started, “that every time _you_ play with magic water, _I_ always get wet?” Katara winced, knowing that this was pretty much true. It had been a while since she had splashed herself.

“It’s not magic Sokka its water-bending a-“

“Yeah, yeah I know. A sacred art unique to our culture.” There was a hint of bitterness in there, reminding Katara that as much as her brother _tried_ he would always come second to her unique abilities. As if she needed reminding of that. She would point out that Sokka was technically head warrior with their father gone and Chief until he returned but right then was not a good time. There was a sound of cracking and Katara glanced over her brother’s shoulder to see splitting floes, a dangerous occurrence for two people in a canoe. And the current was taking them right towards it.

“Go left!” Katara cried, spotting a wider opening on the left rather than the closing one on the right. “Left!” Sokka struggled with the paddle, trying to push the boat towards the left but the current forced them right. Desperately trying to avoid the floes they realised at the same time that they were about to be crushed by the approaching floes of ice.

“Jump! Sokka shouted, grabbing her parka and throwing himself onto the nearest floe, taking her with him. For a moment the breath was knocked out of her as she hit the ice, the cold seeping through her clothing, but only for a moment.

“You call that left,” she muttered, hearing the crunch of their last canoe disintegrate behind them.

“Well, why didn’t you use your _magic_ water-bending skills to get us out of their?” Sokka snapped, annoyed that his sister was pinning this one on him. Katara scowled, angry at his retort.

“You know what? I’ve had it with you!” she shouted, a familiar rush running through her and she stood over her brother. She noticed his eyes getting wider, heard the cracking of ice but at the moment was too annoyed to care. “Do you know how much work I have to do around the village? I wash the clothes, cook the meals, mend the tents! Have you ever _smelt_ your socks? Let me tell you, _not pleasant!_ ” She would have added more if Sokka hadn’t squeaked, “Katara!” before a wave nearly knocked her off the floe. She was saved by Sokka grabbing her, once _again_ showing he was quicker on his feet than she could ever be, and chucking her back onto the ice whilst keeping a tight grip himself. Once it was all over, Sokka turned to her half-scared, half-annoyed.

“You’ve officially gone from weird to freakish Katara,” he said, disbelief in his voice. A large ice floe, one that had been there for weeks was now gone, an ocean in its place along with another, smaller, spherical one.

“I did that?” she whispered, stunned. She’d never done anything like that before, intentionally or not.

“No Katara, it simply fell apart by itself,” Sokka muttered, rolling his eyes. Before she could reply she noticed something strange in the ice floe in front of them.

“Sokka… you see the boy too right?” she asked, staring. Sokka opened his mouth, probably to retort with something sarcastic, but closed it again once he saw what was in front of him.

“Yeah…” he breathed finally. Katara decided that she had to find out what they were but before she could move the child in the iceberg did. Two glowing eyes snapped open, staring right at her, drawing the breath from her lungs in a gasp.

“He’s still alive!” she cried, grabbing Sokka’s tiger-seal bone club.

“Hey!” Sokka yelled giving chase for his precious weapon as his sister jumped over the floes to reach the boy.

“We have to help him!” she shouted, swinging the club back.

“Wait, Katara we don’t know who he is!” he shouted back, too late as his sister flung the club into the ice. He grabbed her before gale force winds shoved her off the ice. They both held their breath as a brilliant white light shot skywards and out of the iceberg crawled a boy, strange arrow symbols glowing. And then, as if being released from the ice had turned him from spirit (because that was what Sokka was convinced this boy was at the moment, as unspiritual as he was) to human, the tattoos stopped glowing and the boy was now nothing more than that. A boy, fainting down the ice, dressed in orange and yellow robes, bald with blue arrow tattoos on his body. Katara flung herself forward before the boy could hit his head on the ice.

Scowling, Sokka leaned forward trying to get a better look at him. Their father and grandmother had once told them that only the Air Nomads wore orange and yellow, monks and nuns both. But the Air Nomads had been wiped out a hundred years ago at the start of the war. Whoever this kid was, Sokka knew he couldn’t trust him. He certainly wasn’t going to touch him and so, resigned to the fact that his sister wouldn’t let him go until proven to be a spy, Sokka poked him with the end of his spear, hoping to get the little cretin to wake up and reveal his colours.

“Hey, stop that!” Katara snapped, waving his spear off. Sokka scowled but was prevented from answering when the boy gave a groan. Katara returned her attention to the boy who seemed to be staring at her with some confusion. “Are you alright?”

“I need… to tell you something…” the boy whispered, voice hoarse from disuse and surprisingly young. Sokka stared at him suspiciously but Katara leaned in, hopeful.

“Yes, what is it?” she whispered.

“Come closer…” Katara leaned in, hoping that the boy wasn’t about to expire on her. What happened next surprised both Katara and her brother. His eyes snapped open and a goofy grin suddenly appeared. “Will you go penguin sliding with me?” the boy asked, voice suddenly going at a hundred miles an hour, not a hoarse tone in sight. Katara recoiled backwards, shocked.

“Um… sure,” she said.

“Katara,” Sokka hissed, grabbing her arm. “He could be a Fire Nation spy!” Katara opened her mouth but was cut off by the sound of a groan. The boy, who had picked himself up off the floor, gave a gasp and disappeared, shouting, “Appa!”

“What’s an Appa?” Sokka muttered as his sister shook him off.

“Lighten up Sokka. He doesn’t look harmful.” He muttered something dark under his breath before following her round the ice floe to where the boy had run off to. He then instantly wished he hadn’t when he caught sight of the huge, six-legged _thing_ the boy was attempting to wake. His mouth fell open, too shocked for words.

“What is _that_?” Sokka managed, once he regained his voice. The boy turned, eyes alight.

“This is Appa, my flying bison,” he said as if that wasn’t a crazy thing to say. Sokka stared at him a moment, wondering if the kid was delusional from being stuck in the ice.

“And this is Katara, my flying sister,” Sokka deadpanned. Katara scowled, rolling her eyes. The bison opened its mouth with a yawn, its tongue reaching out to lick the boy _lifting_ him off the ground. It then suddenly started breathing deeply and the boy ducked just as the creature sneezed. Sokka found himself drenched in monster snot. Screaming at the disgustingness of it, and considerable humiliation, he dropped to the ice, writhing to get the stuff off. He could hear Katara giggling in the background.

“My name’s Katara and that’s my brother Sokka. What’s your name?” she asked, friendly as ever. The boy instantly opened his mouth to answer.

“I’m Aaa… Aaa…” the boy started, suddenly breathing in deeply. “Aachoo!” he sneezed and then disappeared ten feet into the sky. For the second time that day, Sokka found himself staring at the boy in shock. “I’m Aang,” the boy said brightly once he had dropped back to the ground.

“You just sneezed and flew ten feet in the air!” Sokka intoned, hearing his voice rising in pitch in shock.

“Really?” Aang said, looking up. “It felt higher than that.” Katara gasped, realisation setting in.

“You’re an air-bender!”

* * *

Zuko stared at the bright light for a moment, wondering if he was seeing things. When it didn’t disappear after a second or two several emotions slid through his chest at once. Relief that his quest was nearly over. Joy that he would be able to go home and attempt to patch things up. Hope that things would get better. And determination that he wouldn’t give up until the Avatar was safely in a dungeon somewhere back home.

“Finally…” he breathed, keeping his eyes on the light, memorising where it had appeared. Then he turned and gestured towards the light. “Helmsman! Head a course for the light!” _Soon_ he thought, _soon, I’ll face you Avatar. You’d better be ready_.

_“I’ll give him the message,_ ” a quiet voice at the back of his head said and Zuko cried out, flinging his subconscious away from it. He _hated_ it when the spirit had to do that.

_“Go. Away.”_ He mentally growled at it, ignoring the stares he was getting from the crew, clutching his scalp through his hair. He had once contemplated leaving his head bald for a time but then decided that he didn’t like the feel of the wind racing over the skin of his head and so had borne a few weeks of looking a little strange with fuzz where his hair had been shaved off so the healers could reach and heal his scar properly. There were still many parts that were shorter than his original phoenix tail but they were barely noticeable now.

“Zuko,” his uncle intoned behind him, sounding concerned. Zuko had yet to tell him of the annoying spirit that had taken up residence in his head ( _or had it always been there?_ ) and he didn’t want to worry the man any more than he already did. Spirit contact was dangerous at the best of times and if one was friendly with you, you had to know all about it and not let it anywhere _near_ your mind until you were sure of its intentions. Zuko knew this from secret extensive research and he also knew that he had no clue what _his_ spirit’s intentions were, other than give him cryptic messages, normally through nightmares.

“I’m fine Uncle,” Zuko said once he was sure the annoying cretin was gone. Or at least, that he wasn’t going to talk anytime soon. He wouldn’t admit it, but it freaked him out when it started talking, acknowledging that he was not a normal child. He often wondered if Azula had a spirit stuck in her head as well which might explain why half the time she was cruel and uncaring towards him.

_“That’s not what makes her so different,”_ the voice said quietly, almost comfortingly. Zuko turned on his heel and stalked away quickly, barely hearing his uncle’s warnings about not getting his hopes up over some lights in the South Pole. He had to get away before he started doing something else strange in front of his men. He slammed his door behind him once he reached his room, effectively letting the ship know that he didn’t want to be disturbed until they reached the Avatar or the village.

_“Why can’t you leave me alone?”_ Zuko snapped sulkily back to the spirit, wondering why now, of all times, it had decided to be more active.

_“It is not my duty to be lax.”_

_“Then leave me alone.”_

_“That would be lax.”_ Zuko growled and this time he wasn’t sure whether it was in his head or out loud. The thing was so _infuriating_ at times.

_“I thought you had to help the Avatar stay alive. Why are you bugging me?”_ he snapped, a part of him fearing the answer because it was always the same.

“ _You know why.”_ _No, actually, I don’t_ Zuko thought but he knew that whether he wanted it to or not, the spirit would have heard. Ever since he could remember the spirit had told him that he was there for a reason. When Zuko asked him why it was always the same: ‘you know why’ or ‘you already have all the answers’. But he didn’t. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing or what the spirit wanted from him and he was already under enough pressure from his father to excel. He didn’t need any extra.

Zuko sighed and turned towards his desk, rubbing the spot at the bridge of his nose, hoping that that would somehow alleviate the pain from a growing headache. They seemed to be happening a lot lately with all the thinking he was doing. With another puff of air, Zuko set himself down in front of a set of five meditating candles, lighting each with a pinch of his fingers. He barely even had to think about it as he assumed the position for a long time of meditation. Sometimes, things went awry when he meditated and he had once made the mistake of thinking that he would only sit for five minutes, not even bothering with this particular pose and found when he woke that he had actually been meditating for nearly five hours, muscles now stiff and sore.

He reached out with his inner flame, pushing away any other callings and ignoring them for the time being. He needed this moment of quiet and tranquillity. Anything less and he would be unsettled until he tried again. In… and out… in… and out… Zuko could feel calm settling over him as his concentrated on breathing, on the flames, on the position of the sun in the sky. He allowed himself a small smile, one of triumph that this would not lead to anything nasty. As usual, he had thought too soon.

  _Something large and red flew past his face and Zuko gasped, recoiling away from it. A comet, striking its way to the earth. He watched as it flew over the Fire Nation, filling its people with destructive power, power that would topple any nation the world had left to offer. Two dragons rose into the blood red sky, dancing around each other in a vicious fight, one red and one blue. They almost looked familiar._

_“Junsuina…” For a moment, Zuko was convinced that the red dragon was his beloved friend returned to him. But when it coiled round to look at him properly, Zuko saw that it wasn’t Junsuina at all but Fang, Avatar Roku’s dragon and the dragon he had mistaken as Lengk_ _ù was Kirai, Sozin’s dragon._

_“The world will fall to fire!” Kirai shrieked, blasting Fang away with blue flames, exactly like the ones Azula could produce. Fang dodged around them, coiling himself around Kirai tighter and tighter until she could barely move._

_“You’re wrong! The world still has hope!” he replied, snapping at her face. Kirai managed to wriggle free and laughed bitterly in Fang’s face._

_“However delusional you get, you forget one thing Fang,” she laughed, almost floating out of the way of a fire blast from Fang’s powerful jaws. “I control the fire!” And suddenly, flames were rushing towards Zuko, towards his face, searing, burning and he was screaming…_

“Zuko!” Someone was shaking his shoulders and Zuko jumped out of meditation, ready to throw fire at the nearest person. He met the worried eyes of Iroh, sitting close to where he had been a moment before. Eyes scanning the rest of the room, he relaxed once he realised there were no dead dragons attempting to finish the job his father had started. His uncle continued to give him that worried look, the one where he waited for Zuko to confess everything he was hiding. But it wouldn’t work this time. He couldn’t tell Uncle about _this_ particular problem.

“I’m fine, Uncle, I’m…” he trailed off, taking another look around the room, noticing the disarray and winced. “I did it again didn’t I?” Iroh sighed, pushing himself painfully to his feet and nodding.

“None of the crew noticed, only I. I had come to see if you wished to explain yourself over a cup of calming jasmine tea.” Zuko resisted letting the air trapped in his lungs from escaping in a relieved sigh. It wouldn’t do for all of his hard work keeping mother’s secret for it all to be undone by some disrupted meditation.

“I am fine Uncle, really,” Zuko said, knowing it was futile. His uncle always knew when he was lying. “How long until we reach shore?”

“Another day or so. Do not avoid questions Prince Zuko. This could be important.” Iroh was giving him that look, the one he only brought out when he was interrogating someone. Zuko gulped, hoping his uncle couldn’t see how intimidated he was. It didn’t work. Iroh’s expression dissolved back into one of worry, an expression that seemed to be permanently painted on his face recently. “A mountain cannot contain an ocean Prince Zuko. Speak to me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Zuko snapped, throwing his hands in the air, fire flowing from them and coming dangerously near the tapestry bearing his nation’s insignia. “There’s nothing to speak about, so stop telling me to talk!” He hoped Uncle didn’t hear the slight catch to his voice but by the sad expression on his face, he had. However, Iroh seemed to accept that Zuko wasn’t planning on talking anytime soon and so left the room, turning only at the door to glance around at his nephew’s back with a look of sad concern.

The moment Iroh left Zuko couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore. Lying to his uncle became worse at every opportunity.

* * *

Sokka wondered if Aang had been born with any sense. First, he claimed that Appa, a ten-tonne snot-monster, could fly. Then, he had somehow convinced Katara to explore the war ship. The only good thing that had come out of the escapade was that Katara had learnt that Aang had been stuck in the ice for nearly a hundred years. Big whoop. So he was probably not Fire Nation, but he _had_ set off that signal which could bring a boat right to the village. It couldn’t afford to lose any more people. Any more than two people leaving and there wouldn’t be enough people to hunt for tiger-seals or narwhales and forage for berries in the area that thawed out for the summer. Or winter near the equator.

And now this. He had no other choice _but_ to banish Aang from the village. Hopefully that would lead anyone in the nearest vicinity to follow the ten tonne fluff monster that Aang rode and ignore their tiny and – _yes he had to admit it_ \- pathetic village. There was nothing of importance here, nothing that they could gain. Their only water-bender was a fourteen year-old untrained girl who taught herself out on the ice shelves when she thought no one noticed. Sokka did, although he didn’t say anything. He would just sit and watch her, hoping that no one would come to take her away like they took away their mother. He knew how desperately that Katara wanted to learn water-bending, but this was not the way. Not following a child with no clue as to where he was, what to do or even _when_ he was.

He could hear them faintly over by Appa. The beast didn’t seem bothered by the cold and neither did Aang for that matter. He didn’t really want to know how that was. Probably something to do with air-bending and all that mumbo-jumbo that Aang talked about. Well, that was all very well a hundred years ago but now there were people starving and homeless, wandering around looking for somewhere away from the war. He wasn’t going to let Katara experience that. He had made a promise to Dad to protect this village and his sister.

Aang finally mounted the stupid fluff monster, waving sadly as he urged the thing to turn around and leave. Katara and the other children watched him go with similar expressions of disappointment but for very different reasons. The children were just sad to see their new playmate disappear, much more fun than the grouchy sixteen year-old Sokka who had little choice other than to prepare the kids for the possibility that they may have to defend the village whether they wanted to play or not. He hadn’t had much time for playing either. Katara was just mad that she couldn’t go to the other side of the world to learn water-bending and made that very clear once Aang was gone.

“Thanks Sokka!” she shouted when the speck that was the air-bender could no longer be seen. “There goes my one chance to be a water-bender!”

“I made a promise to Dad to protect this village!” he shot back, _knowing_ what her argument would be. “And I promised I would look after you, too!”

“I can look after myself Sokka!”

“That’s what Mum said too and look what happened to her!” He instantly wished that those words hadn’t slipped loose from his mouth. Katara’s face instantly washed of colour and his sister stared at her as if he had just slapped her in the face. Sokka felt guilty about what he had done but it was true. Their mother had _lied_ , she had told Katara she would be fine and they, being only children, had believed her. They had seen their mother hunt, watched her fight off tiger-seals when the occasion called for it. She was capable of looking after herself too, even without bending abilities. But after that raid, she had been dead and there was nothing either of them could do to change that fact.

Katara whirled away and ran off, too stunned to do much else. Sokka sighed and turned away. There were things to be doing now, more important things than upset younger siblings who were only thinking about what _they_ wanted and not how it would affect the rest of the tribe. Sokka had never called his sister selfish before, even in his mind, but now he cursed her bending prowess. He would love for his sister to learn under a Master, to be able to be a proper bender but that could not happen at this moment in time and Katara had to accept that. The needs of the village came before her own.

Sokka had thought that Katara knew that. Now he wasn’t so sure.

* * *

Aang was quite honestly confused. He had never been to the South Pole before and the pure _whiteness_ of everything was just baffling. Everything looked the same which was great for gathering clean water and playing in the snow. Not so great when you’re trying to leave and head north. After getting lost once or twice by nearly heading back to the village, he pulled out one of the maps that had somehow survived his dip in the ocean and managed to navigate north just as night began to fall. It wouldn’t be a comfortable night but at least he would be on his way to the Southern Air Temple- home.

Aang couldn’t wait to get home. He couldn’t wait to teach the new acolytes the air-scooter and how to outsmart Monk Gyatso at Pai Sho. He even missed the stuffy Elders and their old fashioned ways, missed the way that most of them would nag at him to practice his air-bending more often instead of goofing off and throwing pies at them instead. But most of all, he missed Monk Gyatso but it had been a hundred years… he figured that most of the people he knew would be dead from old age by now or Elders themselves.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the giant warship that was stuck in the ice near the village. After exploring it and discovering that, yes, it was a real warship and that whoever had designed the thing it had been for the sole purpose of violence and destruction. He had never seen weapons like those on the ship and the way Katara talked about the war… well, it was clear that much had changed since he had learnt that he was the Avatar. And that was one thing that he really _didn’t_ want to think about.

The black snow was what alerted him to the fact that something wasn’t right. Aang had seen many natural weather patterns in his short (or long depending on the view) life, what with living on the top of a mountain and everything, but black snow was not one of them. It didn’t taste right either, kind of sooty like the air in the Fire Nation after a volcanic explosion. But there were no volcanoes in the South Pole, of that he was certain. So Aang turned his gaze out to sea, wondering what was going on. His blood ran cold at what he saw.

When Sokka had freaked out about the flare from the ship going off, Aang had thought that he was just being paranoid. After all, there hadn’t been a war raging when he had lived at the Air Temples and it seemed unlikely for it to drag on for a hundred years. But now the reality of the world hit him hard in the face. Sailing down into the natural bay close to the village, and not looking like stopping, was a ship similar to the one that Aang had been exploring earlier. It was of a similar design but had clearly been updated at some point in the last fifty years, although not by much. The ship was old, but still strong regardless of the fact that scale covered the bottom of the ship giving the tell-tale signs that it would soon start to rust and fall apart.

“Oh, _Spirits_ Appa,” Aang muttered as he watched it glide past, looking as predatory as a panther-bear. “We have to warn the village!” Appa stared at him balefully and groaned. Aang nearly hit himself with his glider, remembering that Appa had just spent a hundred years in an iceberg and swam all the way out here plus getting lost. The Sky Bison was tired and he would not move before tomorrow. But then again, the ship was still a fair way from the village. It probably wouldn’t arrive until some point tomorrow morning but by then it might be too late.

“What do I do, Appa?” Aang mused out loud, knowing the bison couldn’t talk back. Appa groaned again, as if stating ‘it’s alright, go warn them without me’. Aang grinned but he was tired too. He couldn’t warn anyone if he was exhausted by the end of the trip. “Guess I’ll just have a quick nap…”

When Aang woke the sun was breaking the horizon and the ship was gone. Appa would not be waking anytime soon and there wasn’t anything else he could do to get to the village faster than on foot. Unless…

* * *

Zuko could barely believe that this was what was left of the Southern Water Tribe. He had been up near the north to know that they had a towering city. He knew that the Southern Raiders had admittedly attempted to do away with the water-benders in the nearer south. He also knew about the one unauthorised raid that had had no grounds to be here but surely it hadn’t left it in _this_ state? What happened to sister tribes?

_It’s none of your business how the Water Tribes interact with each other is it? Find the Avatar, focus on that. Not this._ He knew that his head was right but something in his heart ached for these people, something he had tried to bury after his mother could no longer protect him from his father. Ozai was unforgiving to those who were weak of mind and he considered mercy and empathy emotions that entered those categories. No wonder he was considered a failure.

“Where are you hiding him?” Zuko paid little attention to the idiot Water Tribe boy who was clearly half trained. _He_ had had better weaponry skills at the age of seven than this boy had. The silly little attempt with the spear and boomerang had done nothing but give Zuko a headache and a temper. “Where is the Avatar?!” The siblings just stared at him, confused. They were the eldest children (and that made no sense because _surely_ they would have had playmates once upon a time?), the others compromising of elderly or very young. Dependents, nothing more and all of them with the same Water Tribe skin. No, none of them could be the Avatar. He would have come forward by now.

Something barrelled into the back of Zuko’s legs and he yelped as he hit the floor in an undignified heap. He growled, shaking his head and looking up to see a boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, being thrown off of a penguin-seal and giggling towards his new friends. But the most striking thing about him was the air-bender tattoos on his head and his orange robes. _You have got to be kidding me_.

“ _You’re_ the Avatar?” The boy looked surprised to be caught out ( _and was that guilt flashing in his eyes, at the corners of his mouth?_ ) before standing, a more serious expression on his face. Zuko grit his teeth together, his anger raising his body-temperature and melting the snow on his armour. Something about him reminded him of Azula; probably in the easy manner that he slipped into a bending stance showing that he was a master at a young age. _Oh and doesn’t that bring back pleasant memories_. He shoved the thought down and circled the Avatar, hoping that the spirit would keep quiet. It was none of its business what he did anyway.

“I’m right here,” the boy said to shocked gasps from the Tribe. Zuko prevented himself from rolling his eyes. Was it that hard to figure out? No one had seen an air-bender for a hundred years. Did they think that he had only _known_ the Avatar?

Without giving the child any more leeway than he already had, Zuko took the first step in the fight, throwing a ball of fire the boy’s way. He caught the shock on the child’s face, the sudden panic that _oh spirits this was_ fire _he was dealing with_ , as he spun his staff round, creating a whirlwind of air that blew the fire away. Zuko contemplated this a moment, before moving to the side, blasting a shot of fire at him with a punch before jumping in the other direction, kicking fire out with his left foot as he went. The boy obviously didn’t expect this and jumped out of the way, almost into the decoy fire. If Zuko had known that the Avatar was this easy to defeat, he would have brought less soldiers.

_Something’s not right here_ he found himself thinking. Why wasn’t the Avatar using water to counter-act his fire moves? Or earth? Or even fighting fire with fire? Why only air?

_“You are asking questions you already know the answer to,_ ” that quiet voice at the back of his mind whispered and Zuko had to physically prevent himself from flinching. He couldn’t break down and argue with the thing here. Not while he was in the middle of a battle. The air-bender took advantage of his momentary distraction to throw an air blast at him, so strong that for a moment the idea to counter-act this with his own almost overtook him. Instead Zuko threw himself down, rolled and came up with another blast of fire. This time the air-bender heard shrieks as the deflected fire came dangerously close to the village children. Zuko could see the horror on the Avatar’s face as if this were _his_ fault. _I’m not the one who deflected it into their midst idiot!_

“If I surrender, will you promise to leave these people alone?” the air-bender demanded, not hearing the gasps and cries of the girl behind him. Zuko blinked, thrown for a moment, before nodding. Who was he to stop the boy from coming quietly? Zuko nodded, the closest this boy was going to get to an agreement and gestured for his soldiers to surround the child.

“No, Aang!” the girl cried, moving as if to run forward and fight them off, but she was stopped by the boy warrior. He supposed from their similar looks and attitude that they were siblings and something in him wrenched painfully at the thought that not all siblings hated each other the way that Azula seemed to hate him. He turned away, burying the feelings that rose with that simple gesture.

_“You are not to blame for what has passed,”_ the spirit said, as if trying to be helpful.

“ _Shut up,_ ” he mentally muttered to it, before addressing his men. “Set a course for the Fire Nation!” he shouted, waving them back onto the ship, intending to escape into his cabin as quickly as possible. “I’m going home!”

“ _But what waits for you there Prince Zuko?”_

_“Go away!”_ There was almost a sigh, the spirit retreating some. Zuko had the vague realisation that he still needed to give the men orders as to where to take the Avatar, but something was just not right about the whole affair. How was he going to explain that this child was the Avatar and not just any old air-bender that had somehow survived? Better yet, how was he going to explain how he _knew_ that the boy was the Avatar?

_Hang on a second,_ he thought, freezing in the corridor and forcing the procession behind him to a halt. _How_ do _I know that this boy is the Avatar? How did I know when I saw him?_

“ _How do you know I’m not a malicious spirit?”_ Panic rose in Zuko’s throat, almost so bad that he nearly raced to his rooms for solitude right then and there. The ship was moving again, making its way out of the ice but that wasn’t enough to distract him. Here he was, a prince of the Fire Nation, capable of treason and talking to a spirit that he had no idea as to who or what it was. And now he instinctively knew who the Avatar was, almost as if he had known the boy his whole life.

“Sir?” The quiet voice came from one of the officers to his left. There was a clear question there, wondering about his health. _You look like an idiot. Keep moving. Sort out weird spirit stuff later_.

“Take the Avatar below decks and make sure he’s restrained. Remove his staff and put it somewhere safe. It’ll make a good present to my father.” Orders given Zuko fled to the confines of his cabin, fighting off a complete breakdown as he went, internally screaming in panic at the sudden revelations that had made themselves present.

_If only Junsuina were here_ he thought, now running to get to his cabin. _She would be able to calm me down_. But Zuko hadn’t seen the dragon in three years, although somehow he got the feeling he wouldn’t be waiting too long until he would see her again.

* * *

There was something very wrong with the teen leading this crew. Aang knew barely anything about the Fire Nation in this era, but somehow he couldn’t help thinking that the boy was not quite _right_. As if there were something odd about him that he tried desperately to hide but came up in moments such as before. Aang contemplated this as he walked down through the corridors of the ship, deep down towards the holding cages were. Surely behaviour such as the boy had been exhibiting couldn’t normal in the Fire Nation now could it? He had just _stopped_ , right there in the middle of nowhere. Even Aang, who was even more scatter-brained than the rest of his friends, didn’t just stop and then change direction like there was nothing wrong. And the way he moved… if Aang didn’t know any better he would say the boy was fleeing from something.

The two soldiers guarding him didn’t seem particularly intimidated by a twelve year-old air-bender. In fact, they were practically ignoring him, shoving him along when he got too slow for their liking. But Aang had no intention of staying on this boat to wherever it was that they were taking him ( _Fire Nation remember?_ ). He had to find his glider and get out of here and then back to help Sokka and Katara. He hadn’t known them very long but they were still good friends. And he could understand Sokka’s paranoia now, what with everything that had just happened. And so he put his plan into action of getting out (it was bad and roughly made but at least it would get him _somewhere_ ).

“Sooo…” Aang began casually, “I bet you two haven’t faced an air-bender before, huh?” He noted how the pair stiffed, one glancing back towards the other.

“Be quiet,” the one behind him growled. Aang mentally shrugged and sucked in a deep breath of air. He held it in a moment before letting it out as a large gust of air, throwing the soldier in front forwards and himself into the one behind.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to know where my staff is?” he asked as the two staggered to their feet. One blasted a fireball at him and Aang yelped, leaping out of the way. “Guess not. Thanks anyway!”

Aang had no idea how to get around the ship but he figured that it was one step at a time. He ran off through corridor after corridor. He came upon another set of soldiers, vaulting over them and using the spike on one of their helmets to cut through the rope holding his hands together. One problem down, about three more to go. First up, his staff.

The ship was a maze in disguise. His first route took him to the engine rooms, furnace hot and clearly not where they would keep a wooden antique. So he headed up another way, opening as many doors as he could. He came up with nothing, except for one room with an old man lying asleep in bed. Aang whispered an apology, even though the man didn’t even stir, and carried on. The next room however, turned up both what he wanted and exactly the person he wanted to avoid.

The teen didn’t notice him at first, too deep in meditation. Aang figured that if he was _really_ quiet then he could sneak in, grab his staff and sneak out without him noticing, being able to escape scot-free. But just as he was about to grab his staff something made him stop and turn towards the teen. It didn’t look like a good meditation. His brows were drawn together (at least they would be if he had two eyebrows, rather than the one. How had _that_ happened?). His lips moved slightly, as if talking to someone and Aang could have sworn he heard a sort of whispering coming from the boy in his head.

“ _Spirit touched_ ,” a voce whispered. It sounded kind of like an old man. _“He is spirit touched_.” Well, that kind of made sense but Aang was pretty sure those people who were spirit touched were usually peaceful. And not so young. But the spirit-touched had also freaked him out. They were different, removed from the world in a way that wasn’t natural. This boy, who Aang had a strange feeling of familiarity about, was about as different from them as could be. He was scary but in a violent way not a creepy ‘ _I know this world better than you ever could_ ’ way.

Whatever the teen was, something seemed to have alerted him that he wasn’t alone any more as his eyes suddenly flew open and Aang found himself staring at a pair of pale gold eyes, different from any fire-benders than he had ever before. Even Kuzon, who had done some epic tricks with fire, hadn’t had eyes like those.

“I should have known,” the boy muttered, getting to his feet – _was that a slight stumble? This wasn’t right-_ and falling into a bending stance. Aang was now very sure that something was off about the teen and knew that whatever he did, he couldn’t fight him again.

“I won’t fight you,” Aang said quietly, backing away from the angry teenager, reaching behind to grab his staff. He had a feeling that despite his good intentions, the boy-soldier wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

“You don’t get it do you?” the other boy spat scathingly. “You’re my prisoner and I _will_ return you to my father!” For a spirit-touched, he _really_ wasn’t in touch with the spirits. That, or the spirits wouldn’t leave him alone and Aang could remember the one teaching that Monk Gyatso had drummed into him. _One must never enter the spirit world alone, Aang, for it can be a dangerous place. To be the Avatar or even spirit touched is a dangerous responsibility for it makes you vulnerable to malicious spirits as well as the benign ones._

“I’m not going back to the Fire Nation with you.” _And I really think you should get some help._ The boy said nothing more, simply sending a wave of fire towards him with an angry shout, but Aang could see something in his eyes. Was it fear? Anger? He wasn’t sure but whatever it was, Aang was sure something had disturbed the teen deep down and this was simply a way of releasing whatever it was. And so be it. Aang had been taught offensive moves, despite air-bending being mainly defensive or evasive, since he was supposed to be the Avatar. And the Avatar had to prevent (well _fix_ now) the war against the Fire Nation.

Aang dodged the initial fire blast and jumped behind the boy, hoping that they wouldn’t end up setting the ship on fire but the boy simply pivoted, lunging at him with hand-to-hand rather than bending. Shocked that he had been outwitted so easily, Aang jumped backwards, suddenly unsure of what to do. Martial Arts were not something taught to an air-bender except in context of bending. Aang didn’t have the first clue as to how to fight someone without it and wondered for the first time how those without bending managed. He would have to ask Sokka later, if he ever saw the Water Tribe boy again.

Spotting a way out, Aang ducked under the boy’s arm, shooting an air-blast at the mattress on the floor, on which the boy was standing on, and sending both the mattress and the boy flying into the ceiling. He fled the room, weaving his way up, knowing that somewhere there would be an observation deck that he might be able to use to fly away on his glider. Up and up he went, dodging soldiers whenever he could, blowing them out of his way when he couldn’t. He reached the helm, surprisingly high and also in the same place he wanted to go, which was filled with only the helmsman, who turned to stare at him as he ran past.

Just as Aang thought he was home free, something grabbed his foot, sending both him, his glider and whoever was crazy enough to grab someone mid-take-off plummeting back down to the deck, nearly twenty feet below them. The resultant crash knocked the air out of Aang’s lungs, something he wasn’t very used to. Gliding was one thing he was especially good at. Gasping for air, he struggled back to his feet, to see the spirit-touched already standing. _Does he ever give up? How did he even get here? That hit up on the ceiling should have knocked him out!_ Aang _really_ didn’t want to fight this boy. He didn’t seem _bad_ just very confused and there was definitely something very _wrong_ with him, whether he would admit it to himself or not. But clearly, the boy really did want to fight him as another blast of fire came his way. Aang yelped and ducked, attempting to at least fall into a defensive stance when the low grumbling roar of a sky bison could be heard.

“Appa!”

“What?” The teen didn’t look very impressed by a flying bison, turning his attention back to Aang who, too late, realised he was ready for another fight _again_. This time, Aang couldn’t have stopped the blast if he tried. With a cry, and not a small amount of impending doom, Aang found himself falling backwards, down, far too far down to be normal, before hitting something incredibly cold with a splash…

* * *

Zuko ached. He hurt and he was angry and the spirit just _would not leave him alone_. All his frustration and anger over everything that was happening went into one huge fire blast that, _too late_ he realised, sent the air-bender over the side and into the ocean. Well, this was turning out to be a _brilliant_ day.

The creature bellowed in a way that Zuko supposed meant _pissed off_. Not worried, angry that he had _dared_ touch its spirit-brother. _This really isn’t my day isn’t it? First, I find out that the Avatar is a twelve year old boy. Then I get stuck with visions of people burning alive and now this. I should know better._

_“Yes, you should.”_ The spirit muttered, strangely sad. Zuko swallowed.

_“Something even worse is going to happen now isn’t it?”_ It wasn’t every day that Zuko suddenly felt the need to talk to the spirit like a normal person. It didn’t answer. Instead, the boy Avatar rose from the ocean in a whirlpool of water, eyes and tattoos glowing in the _Avatar state_ , and Zuko had enough time to think _Fuck_ before a wall of water slammed into him, throwing him exactly where the Avatar had fallen before. The cold was shocking, mind-numbing and for a moment, Zuko wondered if it would be so bad just to drown.

_“No!”_ the spirit shouted in his mind, power suddenly flowing through Zuko’s veins. “ _Don’t ever think like that! You are our Nation’s only hope!”_ For a moment Zuko found himself staring at his body, third person and felt his stomach drop. _No, no, can’t let them know, not now!_ But whatever he said did not stop what was happening.

“ _You’ll let them know! They can’t know! Stop it!”_ Water… water in his lungs, trying to bend out of it but couldn’t let the crew know…

“ _If you do not, you will drown!”_

_“I can swim!”_

_“Not in water this cold!”_ Drowning… Still drowning and the bison was flying off…

“ _The Avatar will not know.”_

_“The Avatar already knows! Don’t do that! Anything but that!”_ Coughing, spitting but still underwater… _Agni, I’m going to die…_

_“I am sorry Prince Zuko.”_

***

Aang had no idea what had just happened. One moment, he had been floating in the water, the next he was back on the ship and exhausted. More exhausted than he had ever been in his life and yet… something was missing. No matter that Katara had just frozen fire-benders in ice, there was something _missing_ on deck, something that had been there only a _moment_ before. But in his current state, Aang couldn’t figure it out.

Sokka dashed up onto Appa, having hacked his way free of Katara’s accidental ice blast. The pair had brought supplies and he could only guess that they intended to travel with him now. Well, that was great and he would be enjoying this knowledge even more if there wasn’t that one fact nagging at the back of his mind…

_“The water… Look at the water.”_

_“Roku, you’re going to get us all killed.”_ Voices… he thought he had heard those voices before. _Of course, past lives_ he thought, wanting to hit himself on the head. The monks had informed him that he would be able to contact his past lives when close to the spirit world, especially after coming out of the Avatar state, which he supposed was what had just happened. Which meant, that water-bending Sokka and Katara were telling him about _had_ come from him. But there was still something wrong…

Aang leant over Appa and spotted something floating in the water, just under the surface. Something black and red… _Oh spirits_ Aang thought in horror. _That soldier_. The boy was under the water, having been flung overboard like a rag doll by _Aang_. He felt sick. They had to go back; they had to pull him out from under there at least. No one would survive for too long under there…

Just as Aang was about to dash for Appa’s reins however, a pair of glowing eyes snapped open under the water and he _twisted_. A new glacier formed, dragging the boy out of the water and onto dry land (or at least as dry as an iceberg could be). The glow faded and he flipped over, coughing water out of lungs and gasping for air. Aang winced, even though he was now just a tiny figure in red.

Yes, there was definitely something very wrong with that boy. And it wasn’t because he had a scar or because he was spirit touched. It was because of what gift the spirits had given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noted, this is not an Avatar Zuko story by now. There is a reason to this- which is explained sometime when we get around to the mid-point of Book 2 and somewhere in Book 3. So I will not be explaining it here. However, I have been changing a few ideas I have for this story, as I actually started this some two years ago (life got in the way) and so I am now updating it with ideas I think will work better. This is also the only story I have planned out fully... which is strange. Anyway, moving on, don't worry about it, I just wanted to make sure that no one was going to start thinking 'wait a minute...' and leave some strange comments.
> 
> Also, don't worry about Junsuina. She isn't out of the story long and pops up again for a brief cameo in chapter 3, before becoming a more prominent part.


	3. The Southern Air Temple

Zuko woke up feeling cold. He couldn't remember getting back on the ship, or even into his bed. Except the room smelt like spices and jasmine tea so it clearly _wasn't_ his room. _Uncle_ he thought, but either it was too dark in the room for him to see or he still had his eyes closed. Everything felt heavy, awkward. He tried thinking back, trying to remember how he had gotten here. But all he could remember was arguing with the spirit and then listening to it apologize... drowning but then expelling liquid from his lungs in horrific gasps and pulls until there was nothing left and he was coughing down a dry throat... and then nothing.

Clearly, he had been rescued from whatever solid mass he had landed on - _created_ \- by his crew and had been holed up in Uncle's room like he was sick. Uncle wouldn't ever force him to stay here though, so he couldn't have woken up yet and he wasn't even sure if he was _awake_ and not just hovering between sleep. _I need to get up. I have to know where the Avatar is. I need to regain my honour..._

_"_ _You need to regain nothing but your rest."_

_"You got me into this situation,"_ Zuko muttered to the spirit, tensing as someone placed a gentle hand upon his brow.

"You're burning up Prince Zuko." Iroh sounded tired and scared. It panicked Zuko, hearing his uncle sound like that. Not once, not _ever_ had the man sounded scared in Zuko's presence. This _couldn't be happening_.

_I'm here Uncle! I'm fine!_ He wanted to say but everything was so heavy and he was so _tired..._

" _Rest Prince Zuko. You have deserved it."_ Perhaps the spirit was right... he wouldn't sleep for too long...

Uncle was not there when some semblance of consciousness returned. There was however, a cold rag sitting on his forehead for which Zuko was glad because now he was _burning_. _Why am I so hot? Last I awoke I was freezing... Where is Uncle?_ He hadn't been moved. The room still smelled like spices and tea. Zuko secretly loved the smell because it meant _Uncle_ and fun and being _loved..._ a feeling that he hadn't felt since Mom had disappeared.

An image of her rose up unbidden in his mind as she had looked on the day they had heard news of Lu Ten's death. Sad, tears gracing soft cheeks as she reached out a hand to wipe away Zuko's own tears as he cried into his pillow, sobbing about all those broken promises Lu Ten would never be able to keep... _"_ _I promise you cousin, I will return no matter what." You lied Lu Ten! You never came home!_

"Zuko?" Uncle had returned. It seemed the spirit was silent now, quiet while Zuko was lost in such painful memories. And his uncle's voice... soft and questioning, a hand holding his own as Zuko slumbered, worried that his nephew would never wake up...

_I'm fine Uncle, I'm with you_ Zuko wanted so desperately to say but darkness was closing in on him and so were other dreams, other nightmares. _"_ _Dad's going to kill you! Really, he is... Really, ZuZu, you don't expect to_ win _this fight do you?"_

Zuko forced his eyes open, if only to get away from that _voice,_ those _eyes,_ promising pain because she _could_ , because Mom wasn't there and Dad had changed to reveal a monster beneath the loose mask. Perhaps Ozai had always been like that, perhaps Zuko just didn't want to see... but he was the only family Zuko had left and he had tried so _hard..._ surely he would let him come home now that he had a heading on the Avatar? Surely he would be welcomed back once the Avatar was chained and kept captive?

He was still too hot. The room felt stifling and all Zuko wanted to do was open the window, let some air in. But healers believed that if you opened a window into a sick room you would allow evil spirits in. Zuko didn't care about evil spirits at the moment, only that he could breathe cool air. Uncle was now asleep in the chair next to him but Zuko was too exhausted to move. His body felt weighted down and any effort to even so much as sit up by himself drained whatever energy he had left. Something caught his eyes, dark and curling on the back of his hands but he was more focused on gaining Uncle's attention.

"Un... Uncle?" Zuko croaked, throat so dry it felt like he was running knives over his voice box, not air. Iroh stirred but did not wake. So he tried again, a little louder. "Uncle!" This time Iroh did wake, blinking sleep from his eyes, surprise and happiness lighting his face when he saw that Zuko was awake.

"Zuko, you have returned to the conscious world!" he cried, flinging his arms around his nephew and clinging to him as if he would never let go. Normally Zuko resented this behaviour but the few times he had woken before he had heard his uncle's fear. Something had happened to make Iroh fear he was about to lose his surrogate son, something that Zuko couldn't comprehend. "Don't ever do that to me again!" he whispered into Zuko's shoulder as his nephew managed to move heavy limbs to return the hug.

"How long?" Zuko whispered, wincing at his throat. It was sore, very sore but what did he expect with the force behind each retch to get salty water out of his lungs? He was half surprised he still _had_ a throat in which to talk with.

"Nearly a week. You are still running a fever but it has reduced some," Uncle said, pulling away but not letting go. He propped Zuko up on cushions and reached to the table beside him for a tankard containing water (probably the biggest drinking vessel he could find on the ship that _wasn't_ a teacup). Zuko would have gulped it down if Iroh hadn't forced him to drink it in sips. "You will make yourself sick, my nephew. Drink slower." Without much choice, Zuko followed Iroh's advice, content for now just to lie here.

"And the Avatar?" Iroh's face twisted into a grimace. _You know he doesn't approve of this quest. You knew when you started this voyage, just as you know it now. Of course he's not going to take it favourably._

"Gone. He and his friends rode away on his bison." _I know what you're up to old man. You're not going to tell me which way they went or where you think they're going because you want me to give up. To not think about this right now and just get better._

_"_ _You should listen to your uncle more often."_

_"Y_ _ou butt out of this,"_ Zuko growled at the spirit which had made its delightful return. But he didn't mention any of this to his uncle. The retired General deserved a proper retirement, not following Zuko around and cleaning up his messes. Another reason to aim for home. But right now, none of that mattered since he only had a vague idea as to where the air-bender had disappeared off to, although he could probably make a very good guess. However, there was another, more pressing issue, to deal with at the moment.

"Uncle... did anyone...?" Zuko swallowed past the lump rising in his sore throat, hoping against hope that no one had seen his desperate fight with the spirit and the _bending_ that had occurred after. Iroh seemed to know instinctively what Zuko meant and shook his head.

"Your secret is safe nephew. At least for now. I convinced the men it was lucky you had the strength to pull yourself onto that iceberg that was _so luckily_ nearby." Zuko sighed with relief, overwhelming exhaustion smothering him again. His mind briefly wandered back to the curling marks on his hands but he closed that thought off for now. It could wait, he was too tired and his eyes felt _so heavy_ again. Iroh stroked his head, a gesture which would have annoyed Zuko if he had been awake enough to realise what was happening but instead, his subconscious mind leant into it and Iroh vowed he would never tell his nephew just how _young_ he looked when he did that... "Sleep, Prince Zuko. Everything will be fine."

* * *

Aang almost forgot about his misadventure with the Fire Nation boy as they flew further and further away from his boat. He was fairly certain it was _his_ boat since he ordered men double his age around like it was nothing. Probably a noble or something, bound to complete a challenge set by the Fire Lord. Which probably meant that the likelihood of the pair becoming friends was slim to none.

Aang was sad about that. The boy could have been a good friend if not for the fact that he seemed hell bent on making Aang's life difficult but part of him still hoped that he would be ok. Kuzon had told him long ago that the Fire Nation rarely ventured into the poles due to the fact that ice could kill if a fire-bender spent too long within it. Hopefully, since he had managed to save himself from drowning, the boy would be ok (Aang _really_ needed to find out his name. Perhaps they could find someone in the nearest town who might be able to help them?).

Katara and Sokka didn't seem as bothered about the fate of the fire-benders; in fact Sokka seemed to disregard it as unimportant. Then again, he also seemed to think that they deserved to be forever left in ice and Aang had no idea what to say to that being a pacifist. Thankfully, he wasn't given much time to think about it since the pair was fascinated with his tales about the Southern Air Temple and all the people they were going to meet.

"What's it like living so high? And mountains? What are they like?" It struck Aang that the pair had rarely been anywhere that could constitute 'away from home' which was strange to him, considering air-benders typically didn't have homes. The temples were where the children and Elders stayed to learn and teach respectively, and once one had earned their master's arrows they would be sent off into the world to spread the word of peace. That was their job, their part of this world and the fact that they had stopped doing that disturbed Aang. Sure, there was a war on but that had never stopped the air-benders in the past. He didn't even pause to think about that though. He decided to concentrate on Katara and how her hair looked in the wind.

"Well, it's nothing like the South Pole. There's greenery and the mountains are so high it's like living on a cloud!" Katara was wide-eyed at this, enraptured with everything he said. Sokka was pretending not to be interested, while really paying very _close_ attention. Which was a little creepy. He had never seen someone watch a person like that before except when hunting. It was a kind of _back off; you're not good enough_ look but Aang couldn't figure out why. Maybe Sokka didn't like him? But he had acted nice enough until now, barring that moment when he had banished Aang from the village. Except Sokka had helped him to escape from that Fire Nation ship... which just left him thinking about that boy again. Shaking his head, Aang returned his attention to their direction and grinned as he saw the high rise of the mountain, upon which was his home.

"We're nearly here guys! The Southern Air Temple!" Katara immediately swung around to catch a glimpse, gasping as it came into view. It looked just the same as Aang had left it, if devoid of gliders and air-benders. Well, they would be inside he was sure of it. The Temple had the same cream walls, the same green terraced roof. Aang loved how the Temple looked from the air, balanced on top of a mountain, graceful as an air-bender on their gliders. It had been built with freedom in mind and to Aang it was home. He smiled. Soon, soon the world would be right again.

* * *

It took nearly a week for Zuko to recover; ordering their course first from his uncle's bed, then from his own as soon as the ship's physician (also known as anyone who was on hand at the time who had enough battlefront first aid to help) had agreed he was healthy enough to be moved. Iroh wasn't happy about this, insisting that Zuko stay in bed _here_ and focus on getting better rather than moving to his own room and aggravating the fever further. But Zuko couldn't stay in his uncle's room without feeling the need to spill _everything_ to him and he knew he couldn't do that. And it became harder to act like there wasn't a voice in his head commenting on everything he did.

Eventually, Zuko got bored of being stuck in bed and snuck out, careful to only wear black and wary of anyone coming and going from the ship. Then again, it was the middle of the night and there was only the ghost watch which was practically incompetent anyway. There were two soldiers off to the side playing some kind of dice game and a third leaning over the rail and spewing however much alcohol he had consumed in the pub earlier over the side. Zuko rolled his eyes. Turk was a colonist _and_ an army reject, thrown out of training for rowdy behaviour, brought on by drinking. It wasn't a surprise the man was drunk as anything. Give him another half an hour and he would be back in the pub.

Slipping past the three soldiers was easy. Finding a secluded part of the docks without being seen was harder. This was one of the few Fire Nation ports that allowed a combination of shore leave and on-duty shifts all at once. It didn't help that it was also run by Commander Zhao, one of many court politicians and soldiers that Zuko despised. He had met Zhao only once in the past, when he had practically been begging like a dog to his father to be put in some kind, or _any_ kind, of control in the army. Clearly, after that dreaded Agni Kai (and Zuko was sure that the man had been sitting behind Uncle, grinning like a maniac and laughing inside at his misfortune) his father had agreed. And stuck him in the marines. That was _almost_ a small victory since the marines was where all the army rejects went, although Zuko had the lowest of the low. Not that that meant _too_ much here.

The docks were busy, even in the middle of the night, workers loading several large warships with supplies. He could also see the lot working on the repairs on his own ship and stayed perched on the roof of the watchtower a few moments longer to make sure they were doing it right. He wouldn't put it past Zhao to get some of his men to sabotage his ship, although Zhao would be in for a shock if he did try. One of Piandao's lessons (before his father had become Fire Lord and Zuko had been banned from setting foot anywhere outside the capital without an escort) had been of a rather unconventional nature (but after mastering dao, that wasn't hard). He had taught Zuko how to take a glance at a blueprint, take in information quickly and memorise it to make sure that he would know what the end product would look like and have some idea of where all the parts went. " _Knowing how a thing is put together ensures that you are never cheated or sabotaged by your manufacturer."_

Zuko had spent hours poring over the little supply ship's blueprints in bed after the Agni Kai. Admittedly compensating with one eye, but now he knew _exactly_ how the ship worked, how it could be put back together and how to do minor repairs whilst at sea so the old thing could reach the nearest port (and hadn't _that_ given the soldiers a shock the first time they had broken down in the middle of nowhere).

Nodding his head slightly that Zhao wasn't attempting anything potentially dangerous to his ship and crew, Zuko moved on, searching for that perfect secluded spot where he could practice. He could feel the spirit's disapproval but they both knew that it was necessary. Light fire-bending wouldn't cut it anymore and if one denied their bending for too long it sent them crazy. Zuko could _feel_ the other elements screaming to be released and he so desperately _wanted_ that feeling of pushing air from his fingers, drawing water from the sea, pulverising rocks between his fingers. Of course, fire was Zuko's favourite element but the others were still a part of him.

_"_ _There,"_ the spirit murmured, directing Zuko's gaze to a quiet cove just outside the port. He was currently standing on the roof of the guardhouse, having jumped, climbed and generally run over the rooftops of the small port. The cove that he could see would be perfect. Walled in on three sides by thick forest, accessible only by someone who could jump from branch to branch of the trees, the underbrush being too thick for anything else, and the last being a natural harbour, tall cliffs rising in almost a complete circle. In fact, there was only a few metres opening, wide enough for Zuko's ancient little ship to pass through but definitely not big enough for anything bigger, ruling it out as an explored area (plus the fact that the forest was yet to be hacked away by idiotic benders aiming to anger the spirits more). Perfect for what Zuko had planned.

_"Be careful Prince Zuko. You are still weak from the spirit-state you were in earlier."_

_"_ Oh, so that's what that was," Zuko muttered, not caring that if anyone was around, they would think he was talking to himself. "I was wondering about that."

" _I did say I was sorry,"_ the spirit said, sounding irritated. Zuko rolled his eyes. _You got me into that mess in the first place. If you would just let me meditate without any fire images...! "That is not by my interference. The lady of the flame favours you in her own way."_

"Now you're just messing with me." If Zuko could see the spirit, he was fairly sure it would have an eyebrow raised. "Agni favours _Azula_. Azula's the prodigy, the strategic genius. Me? I'm the spare, unfortunately born first. Get it?"

_"_ _You are more than a spare heir_."

"I wasn't even supposed to _be_ the heir," Zuko muttered bitterly, throat clogging up. _He lied, he lied to me, he said he would come back..._ Being eleven and suddenly thrust into a role he wasn't ready for, and never been prepared for was terrifying.

_"P_ _eace, young one. Practice your bending, forget the past for now. It cannot hurt you here_." And this was why Zuko tolerated the spirit to a point. It never offered him tea or a smirk promising pain or a curled fist covered in fire to hurt him. It only ever offered a kind of comfort, a guiding hand in the dark. And so Zuko followed the spirit's advice, falling into a bending stance and throwing himself into the forms to distract from the pain. From his nightmares. And as each kata followed another, Zuko felt himself become calmer and calmer, the bending more effective than any meditation that he had ever sat through.

He started with air, working through the Avatar cycle that he just _knew_ and for this moment he didn't _care_. Air whistled through the trees, snatching leaves from the braches and swirling them over his head. Zuko tried to imagine Junsuina here with him, as free as he was in this moment, dancing through the wind like she had done all that time ago. _Painful thoughts. Move on. Let go._ He let the wind go; blasting it over the water and then drawing water back, playing with it. Water had been hard but after figuring out that water wanted to _play_ , wanted to _move_ and _flow_ , it had gotten easier. Fire was offense and defence all at the same time, a lot like water. The tide was currently out at the moment and Zuko stood in the centre of the beach, drawing a globe of water from the waves at least twenty metres away. That was hard and Zuko gritted his teeth. He was tired but this was also the best he had felt in so long and he didn't want to let it go just yet. And so he kneaded the water between his fingers a moment to catch his breath before bending it around him in a dance so familiar and yet foreign. This move wasn't one that the spirit had taught him but it was one that he had made up, determined that if you could bend a fire dragon around you, then you could do the same for water. And he did now, a small dragon formed of water dancing around him, as joyful and spirited as Junsuina. And that hurt, it hurt so much that Zuko couldn't hold it any longer, dropping the water into the sand beneath his feet.

_"_ _Not much longer Prince Zuko. Your chi is already drained. Do not use it all up again so soon."_ Zuko nodded silently. Only earth left anyway. Fire could wait until the morning, when he was rested and _not_ accosted with memories of everything he had lost. _Well, not_ quite _everything..._ He shook the thoughts away, falling into a simple horse stance. He wasn't planning on doing anything too strenuous. A simple stamp and punch forward, shoving earth away from him and out to sea. Admittedly very obvious work of an earth-bender but no one would trace it back to him. He was known as a fire-bender not the Avatar. However, Zuko had misjudged how much force he had put behind the move and the bent earth moved further and faster than he anticipated, hitting the cliffs and causing a loud a jarring _thud_. Zuko's breath caught in his throat, eyes wide, realising that he may have given himself away. The cliff shuddered but held. The port, however, came alive.

_Have to return to the ship, have to return to bed_. Zuko didn't remember fleeing the cove. He didn't remember dashing over the rooftops of the port, slipping past the ghost watch and changing in record time before throwing himself under the covers, seconds before a soldier knocked on his door. Zuko stayed quiet, keeping his breath even. The soldier opened the door, surprised to find the prince sound asleep. He was known after all to be a light sleeper.

* * *

There was something different about the temple but Aang couldn't put his finger on it. It was quiet, even more so than normal but Aang was so happy that he was home, he chose to ignore the dread rising in the back of his mind. Admittedly the temple was dirtier than Aang remembered it and there was a new statute of Gyatso outside the temple, but he chose to ignore this. Air-benders had a habit of going to ground when there was danger about and this time was no different. He was sure that they were all inside somewhere, watching them to make sure that they were not the enemy.

And then there were the air ball courts. _They_ still looked to be in immaculate condition. And if they were being looked after then so was everything else. Although there was a suspicious absence of bison and lemurs.

Aang managed to convince Sokka to play with him, happy that he could share all of this with them. Sokka cheered up a bit, stopping staring at him like he had just pulled a nasty prank and didn't want to be fooled twice. In fact, he even got into the spirit of the game, although Aang felt a bit guilty that the other boy had little chance of winning the game with no bending, but Sokka didn't seem to care. Even when Aang accidently blasted him off the court entirely.

The pair was muttering something when Aang caught up with them. He couldn't quiet catch what they were saying and Sokka seemed to be attempting to cover something up. Aang internally frowned. They had been doing this all day, awed at the beauty of the temple but cautious around him. Afraid of something or the other.

"What's up guys?" Aang asked, cheery as always but still slightly concerned. What was going on?

"Nothing," Katara said breezily. "Why don't you show us the rest of the Temple?" She smiled sweetly at him and Aang decided that everything had to be ok. If it wasn't, then why was Katara so happy?

"Come on! There's something I want to show you!"

* * *

Coming here was a _really_ bad idea. At first, Sokka had thought that the Temple might not hold any clues as to what had happened. The place was deserted sure, but there wasn't any evidence that people had died here. That the Fire Nation had been anywhere near this place. And then Aang had flung him off the air-ball court and right on top of a Fire Nation helmet. Old as it was, there was only one nation on the earth that had the colours of red and black. They had been here all right, but they couldn't have gone inside the Temple. Hopefully.

Aang was still bouncing around, happy as ever. Sokka's stomach growled, reminding him they were low on food. _We need to get to a town and resupply. Not run around a deserted Temple where Aang could find the bones of his people_. Not that they had come across any Air Nomad bones. Yet.

"Where are we going?" Katara called out, keeping slightly ahead to keep up with Aang.

"The Inner Sanctuary! Monk Gyatso told me that one day when I was older I would be taken there to meet with someone very important." Sokka blinked, momentarily confused. Aang had to know that it had been a hundred years, they'd told him that already. He had to know then, that the person in the Inner Sanctuary was as dead as the rest of the people here by default, but most likely killed by the Fire Nation. At least they hadn't found any bodies yet, which was odd. Either the monks had all been outside that day or someone had been up here already and moved them, a disturbing thought in itself. Who would climb all the way to the top of a mountain only to bury dead monks and soldiers?

They were now making their way down a long corridor, decorated with the now familiar spirals of the Air Nomads. The colours were different from what Sokka had been expecting; blues and greens and creams, far more colourful than anything he had ever seen before. There was _grass_ as well and stone walls. He had never seen that before, only ever heard of them. Ahead of them now were a pair of great oaken doors, sealed shut with a complicated network of pipes. Two ends of the pipes opened outwards like the ends of a war-horn and fitted into the doors were what looked like large sea spider-snails shells, three in total. Two on each side and one in the middle. Aang stopped in front of them, turning to look back with a grin.

"This is it!" he said, barely concealed excitement in his voice. Katara was frowning, clearly having thought through the impossibility of this as him, or perhaps just confused as to how to get in. After all there was no lock or handle on the door, only the complicated pipe and shell construction. Air-bender tricks, oh joy.

"But how do you get in?" Katara asked, confirming Sokka's suspicions. "There are no handles, no locks for a key!" Aang grinned like it was some kind of big secret.

"The key," he said, as if this was to be a great secret "is air-bending."

"Well, whoever it is in there had better have some food," Sokka stated as his stomach growled again. "I'm starving."

"Sokka!" Katara snapped. "Can't you think of something other than your stomach for once?"

"Hey!" Sokka protested as he and Katara backed away from the doors and Aang took his stance. "I'm a growing man. I need my food." Katara sniffed huffily but turned her attention back to Aang and Sokka was reminded about the kid's exceedingly obvious crush on his sister. It also reminded him that there were now a whole range of guys who could quite potentially come after Katara who was, admittedly, very pretty. And while he also knew that she could protect herself, Sokka was all the more protective of her for it. Which only reminded him of the past two failures so far, once in the village against the teenage fire-bender (and if they never saw him again, it would be a relief. That scar was _terrifying_ ) and then again just now. While Aang wasn't trying to hurt him, he was useless against benders. He couldn't retaliate, only surprise them every now and then with Boomerang.

A blast of air distracted Sokka from his thoughts and he watched in amazement as the air Aang was blasting into the tubes forced the shells around, dropping pipes into place and moving the lock (now that he could see that it _was_ a lock) into an unlocked position. Once the third and final shell had been twisted around, there was a loud _click_ and the doors opened silently, as if they had been oiled recently. Inside was nothing but darkness and a sense of foreboding crept down Sokka's spine as Aang started forward.

"Aang wait. We don't know what's in there!" he cried as the other boy continued forwards as if there was nothing suspicious about a darkened, musty room. He and Katara exchanged glances, in agreement for once, and rushed after him. If there were any renegade, hidden Fire Nation traps in here, the last thing wanted was an unwary and naïve Avatar to walk straight into them. However as they moved forwards, the darkness began to recede and forms began to take shape. At first, Sokka thought the room was full of people and his brain went into overdrive, his hand creeping towards his machete. But then he realised that they were all eerily still and they eventually took shape as statues. Hundreds of thousands of statues, twisting round in an everlasting circle, rising up high in to the roof and away, beyond where their sight could reach. Aang had stopped in front of the last statue, an aged man dressed in Fire Nation robes with along beard and top-knot typical of a Fire Nation noble.

"That's Avatar Roku," Aang said quietly. "The Avatar before me." Sokka blinked at the strange, almost hypnotic way the younger boy had spoken in. It was as if he were in some kind of trance. Katara was glancing down at the plinth the statue was standing on, frowning. Sokka noted that it was plain and Katara voiced what he was thinking.

"How do you know that? There's no inscription." Aang shrugged.

"I just do." Katara was looking around, taking note of what the statues were wearing and the order they were in.

"There's a pattern," she mused out loud, beginning to point at the nearest statues. "Air, Water, Earth and Fire. This must be the Avatar cycle!" Sokka raised his eyebrows at that. "These must be all your past lives."

"Wow," Aang murmured, his eyes rising as he took in the spiral around the wall, holding more and more Avatars. Clearly it had been going on for a while. Sokka opened his mouth to say something, when there was a clank from behind them, the sound of metal striking the floor. His eyes widened and he grabbed Katara, pulling her behind the nearest statue.

"Get down! Fire Nation!" Aang jumped behind another statue and they watched as the unmistakable shadow of the soldier's honed helmet grew in the light filtering in through the door.

* * *

If there was someone in the world having a worse day than Zuko, he would gladly have swapped. First he had been stooped to asking Zhao for help, but now the man was just gloating. Zuko hadn't liked the man much _before_ they pulled into the port but now he detested him. The man had no right to go snooping in Zuko's business but clearly the status of 'banished' meant that it was free for all as far as sensitive information went.

"So you captured the Avatar but he managed to get away," Zhao said silkily and Zuko cursed his uncle again for accepting the invitation to the tent. They could have left before now, could have been gone before he saw Zhao's stupid face but no. The call of ginseng tea was greater.

"I underestimated him," Zuko ground out, not stating that the Avatar was a child, that he wouldn't have entered the Avatar State if Zuko had been paying attention and not working out his anger on a twelve year old kid. "I won't make that mistake again."

"No," Zhao said, "You won't." Zuko tensed, _knowing_ that Zhao was going to do something underhanded, something that wouldn't be approved of if Zuko had been anyone else. "The task of capturing the Avatar should not be left in the hands of an incompetent teenager. I will be leading the mission now. You and your... _crew_ may leave in the morning." Anger sparked inside Zuko's brain and he ignored the spirit's warning. He would not let this happen to him! He would not be treated like this, like a child playing at being an adult! He was captain of his own ship, had been for three years! He was _not_ a naïve imbecile with no idea of what he was doing!

"You can't do this to me!" Zuko shouted, rising to his feet with all intention of punching that smug smirk off Zhao's face and damn all the consequences. Three guards rose to grab him before he could get to Zhao and Zuko was dimly aware that they were struggling to hold him as it was. He was proud of that.

"And what are you going to do about it?" He was goading Zuko on and Zuko knew, before the words even left his mouth that he was just giving Zhao what he wanted. His uncle had half-risen out of his seat, as if somehow he would be able to stop what was about to happen.

"Agni Kai. Sunset." Zhao smirked as he met Zuko's furious and determined eyes. Zhao would have a surprise waiting for him on that field if he believed all the rumours of how incompetent he was in terms of fire-bending. At a nod from Zhao the guards let him go and the man disappeared out of the tent. Zuko waited for the inevitable reprimand from Iroh.

"Zuko, what are you doing? Do you not remember last time?" Iroh's voice was sad but Zuko didn't want to talk about it, no matter how much his uncle insisted.

"I will never forget," he said, his eyes fixed on the spot where Zhao had once been. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better to have simply faked his death and lived the rest of his life as the Blue Spirit. It seemed an easier option than this.

* * *

Aang swallowed hard, watching as Sokka hefted his boomerang in his hand, waiting for the soldier to come into range. He didn't understand. This didn't happen in the Air Temples. And how had the soldier gotten up here anyway? The only way in or out was by bison. You had to _fly_ to reach all the way up here. It was impossible for the Fire Nation to have reached them, let alone even _heard_ that they were here. Mind you, in hindsight it was probably obvious that the first place an air acolyte would go was the nearest Temple. That way, they were guaranteed protection.

The shadow grew longer but now something seemed off about it. The horns on the helmet seemed too long, elongated in a way that Aang had never seen on Fire Nation helmets. In fact they looked a lot like...

"Lemur!" Aang shouted as he peeped around the statue. He was right there was still wildlife here! He heard Sokka, quick on his heels groan,

"Food." Aang wasn't sure exactly what happened in their race after the lemur. Sokka would push him one way, he would push him back until it escalated to Aang cheating and using an air scooter to streak past him, laughing. It was a game really, one to see who could reach the lemur first. He had played it lots of times with Bumi and Kuzon, except the other two had had bending as well and had used it to prevent Aang from cheating. Eventually the winged lemur flew into a pavilion that Aang had no memory of and Aang, without even thinking about it, followed the little critter in.

"It's ok," he said lightly, "I won't let Sokka eat you." He was met by silence. Nothing moved. The breath caught in Aang's throat as he took in his surroundings, staring at the bones and corpses of thousands of people. Fire Nation, Air Nomad... both had died, fighting and been buried here, in a mass tomb. It was as if someone had set to giving them a send-off, a proper _Fire Nation_ burial but hadn't had the heart to set the tent on fire. Slowly he moved forwards but as he did something strange began to happen.

The world began to bleed away, the tent fading to a less grimy shade of purple and many of the corpses disappearing. There was a strange shuffling sound and the flaps of the tent were pulled back and two figures entered. Two very _familiar_ figures, apart from the fact that they looked younger. Especially the boy. Instead of long dark locks, his hair had been shaved back, leaving only the phoenix tail left. A single bandage swept over the left half of his face and Aang _really_ didn't want to see the wound that had caused the boy's scar. The look on his face, however, was not angry but horrified.

"I don't understand Uncle," the boy said, staring at the corpses in front of him. "Why kill _all_ the nomads? They were a peaceful people. They didn't even have an army!" The old man raised an eyebrow.

"As true as that may be nephew, I am fairly certain that that is not what you were taught." The boy didn't even change his expression. He just looked at the floor instead. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," he murmured, not looking up. "Junsuina and I... we were bored and we found a secret room that had ancient accounts in it of Fire Nation and Air Nomad trade agreements." There was long silence before he continued. "It just doesn't make sense... Sozin was supposed to be honourable. _All of this_ was supposed to be honourable, a way to share our greatness with the world. But not like... not like this." He looked young and confused and lost as the old man laid one hand on his shoulder.

"I think it is time we returned to the ship. The Avatar is not here Zuko," he said quietly. The boy- apparently Zuko- shook his head.

"No. They deserve a burial, an offering, _something_ ," he insisted, his eyes bright with determination. The old man recoiled slightly, looking troubled.

"That is not the work of a prince, Zuko. Nor is it the work of a child."

"It doesn't matter. It's what needs to be done."

"You cannot light a pyre for them here Zuko. The air is too thin and the fire will not last long enough for them all to be honoured." The man looked concerned, as if he thought the task too much for his nephew. Zuko simply returned his gaze to the floor.

"They can't all stay littered around like the remains of Junsuina's meals either." With that the scene faded, leaving Aang almost numbly confused. His people were dead. Gone. And they had been honoured not by the people who had massacred them but by a boy, a _prince_ , who had come looking for the Avatar and found only death instead. If only he hadn't run away... but what good would that do? He _had_ run away and this was his entire fault for not fighting back, for taking everything lying down and running at the first sight of trouble.

Determined, he decided to continue through this tent, to honour his people the way they should. They should get at least that. But before he could even begin he raised his eyes to look at the last skeleton, the body of the last person alive in this tent before the Fire Nation departed. An air-bender, one of the Elders if the robes were anything to go by but what Aang noted above all of this was the pendent still attached around the skeleton's neck. It was one that Aang had seen a thousand times over the course of his life, one he remembered the monk placing around his neck once when he was very little.

" _Remember Aang that the swirls represent the freedom of air and that freedom can only be attained through peaceful actions."_ Aang swallowed, only capable of taking a few steps forward. The world seemed to be closing in on him and reality came crashing down on him hard.

"No..." he murmured, unable to process everything at once. His culture was dead, his people were gone, his mentor... His mentor was lying cold, broken and alone before him, the last air-bender alive of the day the floors of the Temple ran red with blood. His body became racked with sobs and he barely heard Sokka enter the tent, barely heard the poor excuse of an apology. Because now he was angry. The Fire Nation would pay for this. They would all pay.

* * *

Zuko blinked, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. _What was that?_ He thought, one hand on the side of the ship, the other clutching his head, waiting for it to pass.

_"Aang has found the burial you made for his people"_ the spirit murmured, sounding for once very far away. Zuko didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

_And I feel dizzy because...?_ There was no answer and Zuko gave up trying to get an answer and staggered to his room. Hopefully, whatever the kid was doing to make Zuko feel this way would stop before sunset. He only had an hour or two and he had only just managed to escape from Iroh to be alone for that time to meditate. Or at least, Zuko was going to _try_ to meditate but if Agni, as the spirit had told him, offered more images of a blood-soaked future, he might just head down early.

Sighing, he shoved his door shut, locked it and stripped off his armour. He wouldn't need it for the Agni Kai since they were fought bare-chested and barefoot. Zuko wasn't sure why, whatever lesson that had covered that aspect of Fire Nation lore had slipped from his mind long ago. And it wasn't as if he would be forgetting Agni Kai rituals anytime soon. Not after last time.

_Concentrate_ Zuko thought, shoving the memory back down again before it could raise its ugly head anymore. If all he was going to do was go for a trip down memory lane every time someone even mentioned the words 'Agni Kai' he might as well give up now. Zhao would be tough to beat, even with the element of surprise that Zuko had up his sleeve. That, and he would have to resist using any other element (say earth-bending and sending that stupid smirk spiralling into the dirt) to defeat that annoying General. But it would be nice to show his father that he wasn't _completely_ useless (while also throwing Zhao out of his father's favour. After all if one couldn't defeat the so-called royal failure in a fire duel then you were considered obsolete and discarded. Zuko should know with the number of people who had mysteriously disappeared overnight.)

He quietly sat down, pinching the candles alight with his fingers and settled down to meditate. He needed this more than he could say. The meditation would help concentrate his chi far better than throwing someone across the deck would (although throwing Jee across the deck was _very_ satisfying at times when the man decided to be difficult) but it only ever worked when things didn't go awry. Like now, as the dizzy feeling still persisted no matter that he was sitting down. He closed his eyes, attempting to push away the feeling, attempting to concentrate on nothing but his inner fire and the connection to the candles.

_Breathe in... and out... in..._ The candles danced and for a moment the world hung in peace before something else began to encroach upon him.

_Breathe in... he was angry, they were all dead!... out... Why was there a feeling of calm? He wasn't calm he was angry! Those bastards had murdered his people!... in... Someone was calling to him but it wasn't his name. Or was it? He wasn't sure, the world was blurring around him... out... He was staring at a darkened room with three burning candles and yet he was also at the Southern Air Temple within the burial tent gusting winds around him. There were two teens clinging desperately to the rubble as if they were about to fly off the mountain... in... Total grief and anger yet also this stupid annoying calm!_ Where _was it coming from?!_

Zuko frowned within his meditation, caught between one reality and another. The spirit was tugging at him, pulling him away. " _Your meditation must wait Prince Zuko. You are needed elsewhere,"_ it said and suddenly, Zuko was no longer sitting on the floor of his room but rather walking through an empty white landscape.

"Where am I?" he asked aloud but received no answer. Ahead he could hear the sound of someone crying and, in the distance, raised panicked voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Deciding that heading towards the sounds may get him answers he followed them until he came across none other than the little Avatar, the boy who would lead to his return home. Except right at the moment, he didn't resemble an Avatar at all, even less than the last time they had met before he had blasted Zuko over the side of the boat. He was kneeling on the floor, head in hands, sobbing as if he would never stop. And Zuko could probably hazard a guess as to why. After all, he too had cried like that twice before... _Don't think of them. Concentrate on what is happening now._

"What are you doing?" Zuko cursed his ineptitude with people but it wasn't as if they were talking in real life. The Avatar paused in his crying and stared up at him in shock.

"W-What?" he stuttered, staring at him in a mixture of fear and confusion. "Where are we? What's going on?" Zuko scowled.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be wandering around lost." There was a moment of silence before Zuko repeated his question. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I was at the Southern Air Temple and we were playing Air Ball but Sokka lost and then we went to the Inner Sanctuary where we found a lemur and Sokka wanted to eat it but I wouldn't let him. Then the lemur led me to a tent that held Monk Gyatso's body and now I'm all a-alone." The boy had gulped back tears at the end of the last sentence and Zuko bit his lip wondering what to do. This boy had lost his people, he remembered that. He remembered the corpses on the mountain top and moving them all to the tent he had mentioned. It had been the best he could do for them, even against his Uncle's wishes for him to leave them at peace because they _weren't_ at peace and somehow he had known that. Hopefully he hadn't noticed how mangled some of the corpses were and not all of them Air Nomad. He supposed they couldn't be peaceful all the time, not when they were all attacked at once.

"But what about those peasant friends of yours?" he asked, remembering the pair who had come to save him. The water-bending girl and the pathetic warrior who might have been skilled if he was properly trained. At the moment he was lucky because he had two benders with him, one being the Avatar, to hide behind. "Do they not count?"

The Avatar blinked up at him stupidly as if he was spouting nonsense and for a moment Zuko wondered if the kid knew what he was talking about. Air Nomad custom was that earthly attachments prohibited access to enlightenment, hence why they owned so little and were taken from their parents at such a young age and brought up in separate temples. The Avatar probably wouldn't have even known what a woman looked like without the weekly visits of the nuns when he was a child (well, he still was a child but that was irrelevant at this point in time). But then he started talking again.

"Sokka and Katara? But they're my friends not my family..." Considering this boy had little notion as to what a family was, Zuko would let that pass. He was so much luckier than he knew. He carefully knelt down in front of the boy and looked him in the eye.

"Family are the people who stick by you through thick and thin rather than just blood relations. I suppose Monk..." A moment to cast around for that monk's name before he carried on, "Gyatso was your first family after your mother and now these new friends of yours are your second. Don't take that for granted." He spoke the last words seriously so the message would go in, otherwise this was pointless. The boy stared at him for a long time before wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"Yeah, I guess your right..." he said quietly. Zuko nodded and straightened up, intending on walking away and leaving the boy there to get his act together and return to his body on his own. Personally, Zuko wasn't cut out for a role in the spirit world since the spirits always seemed to work against him rather than let him move forward on his own. Just as he began to walk off the way he had come (and hoping it would return him to his meditation _before_ sundown and the Agni Kai. He would never live down being late) the boy called out to him again. "Why are you doing this?"

"What?" Zuko didn't turn around so the boy wouldn't be able to see the shock on his face. That would be a weakness and Zuko had learnt his lesson about showing weakness.

"Why are you helping me? The last time we met you tried to kill me." Zuko scowled and turned to face the boy, angry now.

"I never tried to kill you. There's more going on here than you know but if you would really like to know why I'm here there's a really annoying spirit who won't leave me alone and likes you. Happy?" With that he stormed off, clenching his fists and burying the images of his father and that last dreadful day in the Fire Nation. _You will bring me the Avatar or you can die out there as a disgrace to yourself, your family and your country..._ He gritted his teeth and carried on, telling himself that this Agni Kai would show his father that he wasn't worthless, that he could be someone to be proud of. Even if that was only at a military level.

* * *

Aang was confused. Zuko had come, been supportive (in a strange detached way) and made him feel better, only to then turn around and become the Fire Nation Prince he had been on that ship. Clearly, he had said the wrong thing, but Aang couldn't figure out what it was. Something to do with why he had attacked them and wanted him as some sort of prize. But the ferocity in which he had stated that he hadn't tried to kill him was more than just anger at Aang for even _thinking_ he was capable of that, but there was also guilt in the other boy's eyes, guilt that stated that even if he hadn't meant to, he nearly _had_ killed Aang, even if that had been unintentional. And then there was the fact that Aang had nearly returned the favour.

But now he had to figure out how he got out of here, how to return to the normal world and not this in-between space. He wished he had paid more attention when Gyatso was trying to teach him about the spirit world, but since this wasn't exactly the spirit world either, he supposed that didn't matter. Instead he sighed, feeling anger and sorrow begin to dissipate and the world around him slowly faded. A moment later his legs didn't want to keep him standing upright any longer.

"K-Katara?" he muttered, confused as to where he was. She gripped him tighter and he realised that she was holding him in a hug but she gradually let him go.

"I'm really sorry Aang," she murmured. "I know he meant a lot to you."

"But we mean what we said," Sokka said quietly as he joined them. "You're our family now. Whatever happens, we're in it together." Aang wasn't completely sure what they were talking about but he appreciated what they were trying to do and gave them a small smile, even if it was a little watery through the tears beginning to threaten to fall down his face.

"I know." He glanced around at the bodies, making himself look at the body of Gyatso. Zuko had been here, had tried to help in the only way he knew how, but Aang knew he couldn't rely on that. The prince was already stuck between a rock and a hard place and he supposed that being given a gift of the spirits that could get you _killed_ even a hundred years ago was probably a lot worse now. _He's braver then me_ Aang thought. _He carried on, knowing that every day his life was in danger because of how he was born. All I've done is run away from my duty._ But he couldn't dwell on that now. He had to do something first.

"Could you give me a minute please?" he asked quietly, glancing towards Gyatso. Sokka nodded and dragged a reluctant Katara out of the tent. Sighing quietly, Aang approached the monk's body and carefully knelt before him as if he could talk to him as they had once spoken so easily before. "I'm sorry I ran away," he started quietly. "I'm sorry I left this all behind. It was stupid of me to make earthly attachments. You taught me better than that but..." And this was the hard part, _admitting_ that he had been going against the monks' teachings all along. "But you were the only one who treated me like a person even after I found out I was the Avatar. Forgive me Gyatso. The Elders were right, I _was_ too close to you but I don't regret that. Zuko was right too, you were my family and Sokka and Katara are my family now. I hope you'll forgive me when we meet again." He rose and bowed respectfully. For a moment, he thought he could feel Gyatso's soft hand patting his head again, just as he had done all those years ago.

_"_ _Do not despair Aang. I am proud of you as I have always been. It is not wrong to wish for attachments when the task seems too great, and you were not the only one to have taken their own twist to the monks' teachings. But it was better that you left, or else that poor boy would be left with this task all alone."_ Aang blinked, straightening and looking around. He could have _sworn_ he heard Gyatso speaking to him, but that was impossible. Gyatso was dead. His skeleton was lying on the ground before him, surrounded by the Fire Nation dead. But Aang felt warm inside, like when Gyatso would give him a hug after a nightmare when he was little, all alone in his room where no one could see. And he smiled, knowing that maybe, just _maybe_ , he had done the right thing after all.

Sometime later he stood at the edge of the mountain, glancing up at the temple. The lemur- who he had decided to name Momo- was sat on his shoulder, chomping on some berries that he had found, dropping the rest in Sokka's lap. Lemurs always knew what you wanted, even if they were greedy.

"Well," he said reflectively, "We're all that's left of this place. You, me and Appa." He glanced back at his two new friends who were waiting a respectful distance behind him. They hadn't told him about this place but he could understand why. After all, telling your friend that their entire race had been wiped out was not supposed to be an easy task. "Lets go."

Katara and Sokka had already loaded the saddle while he was talking to Gyatso (or at least what was left of his mortal body) and so they climbed Appa and took off. Aang wondered if this would be the last of _his_ world that he would ever truly see as the temple faded away into the mist. The world was already so different from what he knew and it had only been two days. He was hunted by a Fire Nation prince and accompanied by the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. And somehow, he knew the world was only going to get crazier.

* * *

Zuko knew that this had been a stupid idea. Had known it from the moment the words had left his mouth, from getting up from a peaceful meditation after having to calm down one traumatised airbender who knew where and he knew it now as he faced his uncle, wishing that he could do anything than have his back to Zhao. The last time he had had his back to someone in an arena like this it had not been the person he had been expecting. The world kept flashing over with that day and part of him was afraid that he would see his father and not Zhao when he turned around.

But his father wouldn't be wasting time with one exiled son who had disgraced him so publicly.

"Remember your basics Prince Zuko," Iroh murmured, his face etched with worry. And why wouldn't it? Uncle had been there the day his face had been filled with one fire-filled punch, had prevented it from going any further. If Uncle hadn't been there, Zuko doubted he would still be alive, let alone the scarring his father would deliver even if he _had_.

He heard Zhao faintly murmur something behind him, so quiet a normal person would have missed it. But all those hunting sessions with Junsuina had paid off, even if people had been concerned by a prince who hunted rabbit-moles in the ruins of the old palace. It had been one of the few moments he could have fun bending whatever he wanted and even without the bending hunting required the skill to know your prey, to find them by waiting for the slightest slip. It might have sounded like something Azula would do but at least he didn't _kill_ what he hunted. Mostly.

And then the gong went and the time for talking was over. He took a deep breath, rose and turned in the same movement, shuddering internally at the feeling of the ceremonial cloth falling from his shoulders. The wind tickled the bare skin of his chest and he noted that Zhao shivered ever so slightly. The Earth Kingdom wasn't as warm as the Fire Nation but Zuko had been trained in keeping warm in polar winters. He didn't really mind the breeze, even if it did call to him. _This could be tricky if I get distracted_ Zuko thought, slipping into a ready stance. He knew Zhao would want the glory of having blinded the prince where his father had failed. And Zuko had no intention of mentioning how close _that_ had been in itself.

He also knew that Zhao was waiting for him to make the first move. _Well if you so insist_ Zuko thought, throwing the first punch. Zhao would wait for him to throw the supposed 'best' he could at him, before beating him back. He knew what the man was like; after all he had dealt with him before. The man was predictable, even in training (not that Zuko had been supposed to watch that but most people didn't bother watching the rooftops. Which was stupid because that left an opening for assassins but also opportunities for one interested in gathering intelligence). Zhao smirked at the carefully controlled weak blast of fire as Zuko waited for him to deflect it, but still moving into a vicious kick, just so Zhao didn't know what he was up to. Uncle believed he could win this fight, and so did the spirit. Who was helpfully quiet at this moment so he could concentrate on fire and _only_ fire.

Another kick, another punch and Zhao blocked them all. And then the general's offensive began and Zuko internally smirked. Azula was known for her tactical genius, for her prodigal bending. Which was helpful for Zuko because she was the one who spread the rumour that he was incompetent simply because he couldn't defeat _her_. And anyone who couldn't defeat Azula was sub-standard in his sister's mind. Zhao had never been to one of Zuko's training sessions, either at Piandao's house or in the palace. He had never bothered to collect details on the prince's odd behaviour, his strange habits. His uncanny ability to think on his feet and get out of trouble when it looked like he would fall (apart from the one time...). Sure, Azula was ten steps ahead of the game, but once in the middle of a fight and unable to plan or caught by surprise, her only tactic was blast, kill and run to plan, to rectify this one defeat (and since Zuko had once got the drop on her by slapping her when she was riling him up, he had also learnt not to hit Daddy's Little Princess if you wished to see the next dawn. But then again, he was already exiled by that point in time so _he_ couldn't do much else to him by then). Zuko didn't plan, he _hunted_.

_A dragon traps its prey before going in for the kill. Let's see if you're ready_. Zhao threw one last punch that, had he not been paying attention, would have knocked him flat on his back. The power behind the punch was so that if he had been the ability of the bender that Zhao thought he was, he _would_ have been flat on his back. But Zuko was no longer there by the time that Zhao's blast reached the spot where he had been standing. _A dragon coils around its prey, cutting off escape routes_. But Zuko wasn't a dragon and had spent years compensating for this in his tag games with Junsuina. Zhao spun, spinning fire with him and Zuko danced out of the way _yet again_. It was almost as antagonising as the airbender, except Zuko felt more like a candle flame in the wind close to a dry forest. Any moment now, it would go up in flames, just like Zhao's career eventually would ( _any time in this century please Agni)_. Zhao growled, throwing another punch, and this time Zuko blocked it. Grinned as he had at the rabbit-moles all those years ago before sliding his foot forward in a deceptively gentle movement, flames aimed at Zhao's own. The general stumbled backwards, either not talented enough to block the fire with his feet or startled that the prince, who had shown himself a better warrior than he thought so far, was using such a basic move against him. But it had a simple and effective outcome. Zhao concentrated on his feet, on how his root and stance was broken by the constant flames Zukoâ€™s sent towards them. _And now for the killer blow_.

Usually this move would shape the fire column into a dragon, but he didn't want Zhao to know he could do that. Far too advanced for a so called beginner. So it stayed as a normal, boring old flame punch that threw the general to the ground, leaving him staring defiantly up at one very angry teenager.

"Do it," Zhao growled, eyeing the fist aimed at his face. For a moment, Zuko seriously considered it. But he was not his father. Zhao was an idiot and too arrogant for his own good, but he would cause his own downfall no matter what Zuko did. He was better than that. _Although, one fire ball won't hurt to make him wary of me if that show hasn't made the message sink in..._

"You're nothing but a coward," Zhao growled, not even glancing at the smoking hole a mere two inches from his head.

"I'm not an idiot," Zuko answered, turning to leave. He felt more than heard, felt Zhao rise and begin the movements for a fire kick... and also felt his uncle move at a speed most thought him incapable of. There was a satisfying yelp as Zhao skidded halfway across the arena.

"So this is the way the great General Zhao acts in defeat," Iroh said gravely, shaking his head and tut-tutting. "Even in exile, my nephew has more honour than you ever will. Thank you for the tea. It was delicious." They left the arena together, Zuko surreptitiously smoothing the ground ahead of him. After all, he had no boots on and he was _not_ going to end up limping on his ship because he stepped on a pebble.

"Did you mean that uncle?" he asked quietly, wondering about his uncle's remark. He had lost his honour when he spoke out against father.

_"You lost no such thing"_ the spirit murmured, but Zuko ignored it, listening to his uncle.

"Of course. You know ginseng tea is my favourite." And if they hadn't been so close to the ship, surrounded by Zhao's soldiers or still in hearing range of one angry general, Zuko would quite possibly have laughed at that. If only Junsuina could have been here to see the arrogant General get his comeuppance. She would have loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so one thing that never made sense to me was that everyone knew each other's names all of a sudden. Now, I understand that huge amounts of time passed between each episode since each book is a season, so reasonably they could have learnt names off-screen but then again, if they did that then it would be easy to say that they learnt practically everything off-screen which seems a bit lazy for this show so I really wanted to just change this.
> 
> Anyway, not much else to say for this chapter! Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. The Warriors of Kyoshi

The rumble shook the Temple as it had for three years. Shyu gripped the nearest pillar frantically and hoped it was simply the volcano beneath them creating the earthquake. His senses told him that was not so. He glanced ahead where Captain Senin stood looking slightly dazed.

“Is that normal?” he asked, concerned unlike most of the visitors to the Temple. Even living on a volcanic island such as Crescent Island, earthquakes _shouldn’t_ occur this often.

“It is nothing.” Another shake of the earth accompanied by a shriek as something threw itself at the ground beneath their feet. “Nothing to be concerned about,” Shyu amended as the Captain gave him a doubtful look.

“I used to live in Caldera City. Earthquakes aren’t exactly uncommon and there is still danger that it will erupt but I’m not a firebender. Even so, _I_ could tell you that this isn’t normal.” Shyu winced at the Captain’s no nonsense tone. That was the problem when army officials came to visit. To ask for a blessing from the spirits wasn’t exactly unusual, especially from those who wished to take one for their entire crew rather than spend any longer than necessary away from the front but there was no fooling them once their prisoner _really_ got going. The sound of a dragon, almost extinct as they were, was unmistakable. “ _What_ are you keeping here?”

“It is the Fire Lord’s wish that that information stay secret,” Shyu said, hoping Tadao was already down in the passageway trying to calm her down. He frequently wondered if the dragon was deliberately trying to bring the entire mountain down on top of them to get free. The Captain merely raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not my job to get in the way of the Fire Lord. If you would Fire Sage Shyu?” Senin gestured him forwards and, once certain that another quake was not imminent, pressed forward towards the inner sanctum. It was going to be a long enough day with the Winter Solstice approaching and the constant escape attempts of one very smart dragon –and _why_ the Fire Lord wished for the poor creature to be locked in the magma chamber was anyone’s guess- without the interruption of the various Captains, Generals and Admirals who were still spiritual enough to wish to drop by on their way to the front. He supposed he should be glad that they still had a use otherwise Fire Lord Ozai may have done away with them already. In fact, he got the feeling that the man only kept them around in case they got any more on the Avatar’s whereabouts.

_And probably_ he thought darkly as they rose ever higher in the Temple, _to see if he can stop Crown Prince Zuko. He is not as subtle as he thinks as to whom he prefers as heir_. Shyu had never voiced his dislike of their current Fire Lord. Fire Lord Azulon may not have been any better than Ozai, but at least he had the decency to keep family quarrels private. If people knew that the Royal Family were broken, then the country would be divided. No matter how much the people knew. And Shyu knew that Princess Ursa could not have disappeared without good reason. _I hope that boy has found peace. Ozai would do anything to keep him from the throne_. But Shyu, while the only one to his knowledge to question the Fire Lord’s will, was _not_ the only one to question his choice of heir. Azula may be a prodigy but neither was she _sane_. And if you couldn’t trust your Fire Lord not to purge out all those who she deemed weak, you couldn’t trust them with running the country. A sub-par bender with a brain was better than that.

_But you’ve also heard the rumours_ he thought as they finally made it to the top of the stairs and Hitomu took the Captain the rest of the way. The rumours had been wild and strange. Stories of the Crown Prince’s odd habit of taking to rooftops to get away from his sister and hiding out in the old palace. Shyu had only ever been there once to tame a supposed rogue spirit and had seen no one resembling a prince. Just a dirty, grubby boy disrespectfully climbing the still-standing column of rock that had pinned Sozin in place for hours. He’d lectured the boy for that and asked where his family was. The boy had merely scowled, shot off a few rude gestures and scampered off. Shyu was fairly certain no royal would approach an area frequented by such ruffians and so had dismissed them as nothing more than fiction. But over the years he had still wondered where on earth they had come from and whether or not they were true.

The earth shuddered again, with one last anguished shriek from below. A few minutes later Tadao appeared looking slightly scorched.

“She has been calmed for now. I would expect another attack in the morning.”

“It’s been three years since her imprisonment,” Shyu said thoughtfully, raising a hand against Tadao’s stuttering arguments. “You must admit that this is imprisonment. How are we protecting a creature of our very own heritage by locking it within a magma chamber to be killed by the volcano when it finally erupts? Why must we keep her there?”

“It is not for you to know Shyu, nor is it mine. Senior Fire Sage Hitomu has assured me that is it the Fire Lord’s will she be kept here until we are ordered otherwise.” Tadao’s face softened slightly as he glanced behind him. “Besides, she has made herself quite at home. For a dragon, she is such a little thing.” Shyu raised an eyebrow at that. A hundred-foot long creature was not his definition of _small_ but it was not his place to speak out. It would hurt his reputation and if it came to what he thought it would, that would be the only thing which protected him from being killed as a traitor. He bowed and nodded.

“I trust to your superior knowledge and skill with the beast, Fire Sage Tadao,” he said respectfully and, with a nod, walked away. There were things to prepare, as he did in the hopes that the Avatar would come every year at the Festival of the Winter Solstice and the preparation within the shrine of Avatar Roku. If the new Avatar came to visit, he had to be ready.

* * *

 

If there was ever a day that could follow as badly as today was going, Zuko would have traded places. He had had little sleep the night before, nightmares of fire and his mother had left him awake well before dawn and therefore sneaking practice in down on the one blind spot that the helmsman had yet to notice. Thankfully, since some moves of Water were so close to that of Fire, you could almost fake having practiced cold katas rather than having been waterbending, but that still didn’t help. And now, he was facing the near impossible task of tracking down the Avatar when the sightings of him made no sense.

“He’s been sighted here, here and here…” Jee stated, pointing to the three separate (and rather far apart) locations on the map. Zuko stared at them wondering how on earth he was supposed to manage this. The kid was on a flying bison which could move a lot faster than their, now fixed, antique warship. If it still hadn’t been usable, Zuko knew that it would have been melted down for the scrap metal years ago and turned into one of the elite fighting ships, or new metal tanks or whatever other designs the Royal Engineers were coming up with.

“What is he doing in all these places?” Zuko muttered, staring at the different locations. An island here, a remote wood there and finally a tiny village heading towards Kyoshi Island. Zuko wasn’t stupid to think that the neutral island would throw them out with the Avatar in their midst but he wondered whether or not the kid was clued in yet to how dangerous the world now was. That would explain all these different routes. “He must be a master at evasion.”

_“Oh, yes, Prince Zuko. Aang is a master of evasion if you count evading practicing simple forms”_ the spirit muttered in his ear and Zuko ground his teeth together to stop himself from flinching. He hated it when the spirit just popped up out of nowhere.

_Go away_ he growled at it as he faced Jee with the map. The general pattern was facing north and, if these diversions were truly nothing more than the Avatar’s eternal quest for entertainment, then he would be heading to wherever he deemed held something fun. And knowing Aang’s sense of fun, probably something dangerous as well. Hopefully the kid knew about the Unagi in the waters outside Kyoshi Island, otherwise he would be one Avatar down in his journey home. _Please let me be right_ he thought, lifting his gaze from the map.

“Set a course for Kyoshi Island,” he ordered. If they couldn’t keep up with the kid, then he could at least try and keep one step ahead. Despite Azula’s clear prestige at firebending and tactics, she wasn’t the only one who had inherited Sozin’s keen eye for strategy. Zuko just simply used it with less ferocity and ruthlessness. Unlike his sibling, he didn’t revel in the idea of wiping out an entire village just to find out the location of one over-excitable airbender.

* * *

Katara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her brother’s current predicament. Their arrival at Kyoshi Island had well and truly knocked her brother for a loop, what with men being far less important to women on this island. Back home, everyone had looked to Sokka as head of the tribe whilst dad was gone and, as a man and chief, Sokka pretty much had free rein over what they did. When they gathered food, when they went out hunting (of what they could do in any case), even when the children began their schooling. He wasn’t a bad leader, especially with how inexperienced he was technically, but he was woefully behind in training as a warrior and with no one to teach him, he had a similar problem to Katara- they both simply had nothing to work off of and had been forced to train themselves. Gran Gran had been little to no help since she had come from the Northern Water Tribe where it was said that women were valued only for their housekeeping skills and use as diplomatic tools. Katara was glad that she had grown up in the Southern Water Tribe when hearing her grandmother’s tales of their sister tribe, however much she desperately wished to learn waterbending.

Aang was loving the attention they received on Kyoshi Island and she wondered whether this was in part to do with the fact that they acted like one big family, much like how the monks had to have done when they were around. She also suspected that it was a way of covering up the hurt that his entire people were dead and the realisation that he was the last airbender. Currently he was out and Sokka had just returned from the Kyoshi Warriors training hut in disgrace. Sokka was slumped in the corner looking thoroughly disheartened by the whole affair.

“I’ll never be as good a warrior as dad,” he mumbled as he played with his precious boomerang. It was the one thing that Sokka _could_ use professionally as all young men of the Southern Water Tribe were taught how to boomerang a migrating bird or stun a seal from the moment they were old enough to handle a weapon. Sokka, having been naturally gifted with a keen eye, had picked up the weapons difficult skill with ease and had brought home a seal with their father on his first hunt, brimming with pride. But that had been a long time ago before mum had died and the world seemed to collapse around them.

“You’ll be a great warrior Sokka,” she said soothingly, knowing that he had to be frustrated. He had been beaten by a bunch of girls, those who were lower down the pecking order to him no matter that the rules of the tribe didn’t work here. They were close enough to the Water tribes to be a mixed bunch and the fact that they were neutral in the war was even better. It meant that so long as the Fire Nation didn’t get wind that they were here, they were safe from anyone. Then again, there was still that angry jerk who had nearly destroyed their village that Aang had said was called Zuko. _How_ Aang had known his name she wasn’t quite sure since he had been pretty vague about it but it didn’t matter. Now she knew who to avoid. “You just need more training.”

“And where am I going to get training all the way out here?!” Sokka half-shouted, throwing his hands in the air. Katara winced but the boomerang stayed safely in her brother’s hand. She should have known by now that he had gotten out of the habit of throwing the thing when he got expressive, but after the first couple of times she had avoided Sokka’s training with the boomerang as when he was little it had been a common occurrence. And the injuries involved by innocent bystanders had been rather extensive, although none had happened in a while.

“Well, you could try asking the actual warriors on this island?” she said slyly. Sokka’s face coloured and she supressed the giggle rising in her throat.

“I did,” he said sullenly.

“Well, try asking them without insulting them on the basis of their gender. And then maybe I’ll fix your broken pants,” she said, giggling as Sokka scowled. After she had refused to finish sewing them on Appa, he had attempted to do so himself but the stitching was clumsy and all over the place. How he managed to knot fishing nets, Katara didn’t know. Suddenly, without warning, Sokka stood up and left. Katara blinked, wondering whether it was something she had said or whether he had finally come to his senses and was off to ask Suki properly. Hopefully with an actual apology in there.

* * *

To Sokka, being humiliated by a girl was a nightmare. He wasn’t used to being bested by _anyone_ except the warriors who had left nearly five years ago to fight the Fire Nation. He had been left with no instructor and only the most basic of training in traditional Water Tribe weapons. Instead he had been forced to improvise and train at all times of the day between caring for the tribe. To come here after being so thoroughly humiliated by the Fire Nation, being completely useless against the teenage leader of that stupid ship and now having been proved that all those hours practising and making up his own moves had been for nothing was one of the worst moments of his life. That the final nail in the coffin had been delivered by a girl was worse. In the Southern Water Tribe, women were not treated as property but they most certainly were not treated as equal warriors to men. It was supposed to be the other way around. The man hunted and protected while the women cooked, cleaned and knocked sense into the men. They could give their opinions and lead in some areas but they weren’t trained to fight armies. Only to defend their homes and families from wild hunts or skirmishes. Mum had been able to do it, Katara would certainly be able to cope with the pressures of being the chief’s daughter and head of the women of the tribe when she was old enough, but she knew to let Sokka lead in terms of fighting. Suki didn’t. Suki fought on her own terms and she had wiped the floor with him. Twice. It hurt more than Sokka wanted to admit.

The training hut was much better than the ice floes Sokka had practiced on before. It also showed an impressive range of weapons from swords, to spears to a variety of weapons that Sokka had never seen before. The girls were currently practicing with the razor sharp fans that almost tricked you into thinking that they were harmless. It hadn’t escaped Sokka’s notice that most of the girls here were pretty, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from Suki. Perhaps it was because she was a leader like him, or perhaps it was because she impressed him so much that he _had_ to get to know her. What he did know, was that he had to learn how to fight how they did. Perhaps next time he met the jerkbender who hadn’t even bothered to lay a finger on him, he could get the upper hand.

It was one of the younger warriors who noticed Sokka. She giggled and whispered something to Suki who turned to look at him. He wasn’t really sure what she looked like naturally as the make-up was laid on so thickly that the only thing he could be sure about was that her eyes were big and brown. She raised a painted red eyebrow at him expectantly.

“Come back for more?” she said, a touch of amusement in her voice. He supposed she thought he had come back for more humiliation and she was ready to put him in his place. But Sokka had already lost so much of his dignity that it didn’t matter anymore. He needed to find a new way in this world that acted nothing like home. He should have expected that, should have known that other areas of the world would treat their people differently to the way that they treated their people, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him. Now he knew to respect other’s cultures and he was determined that he was going to learn to fight. Whether or not it meant he would lose some dignity along the way. So, sucking in the small amount of pride he had left, he knelt on the floor in front of her, the pupil to the master, took a deep breath and prepared to swallow all the traditions he had been taught on the ice.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” he said quietly. “I should have treated you as the master warrior that you are and not in the way I did. It was disrespectful. If you are still able, I would like you to teach me.” Silence. He didn’t dare look up but as the seconds dragged by into a full minute, he glanced up through his eyelashes and was surprised by the shocked expression on Suki’s face. Clearly she hadn’t thought that he would apologise for his behaviour. _But why not?_ He wondered. While he had acted like a sexist cow-pig when he first arrived, surely she hadn’t thought him arrogant enough to be above an apology. Finally she seemed to snap out of it as the eyebrow raised again.

“You want to be a Kyoshi Warrior?” There was a teasing smile playing around her lips while the other girls whispered amongst themselves. He wished that they wouldn’t do that. He was fairly certain that they were either talking about him or Aang, and since Aang was currently trying to impress his little fan-club that stalked him everywhere around the island, it was probably him. “Well, if you want to learn, you’ll have to train hard.”

“I will!” Sokka stated quickly, wondering if this would get the girls to shut up. Suki blinked and then grinned.

“And you’ll have to follow our traditions.” Another sly smile. “And I mean _all_ of them.”

An hour later, Sokka was regretting his decision. The face paint he could handle. He had applied the traditional wolf war paint to his skin enough times to not shy away when someone bought it to his skin, and while the design was different (the wolf was a lot less girly) he could pretend for a moment that he was a kid again and dad was applying the wolf for their first hunt. But the dress… the dress was a bit much. Needless to say, he could barely understand why girls wore them in the first place. The material was thick and heavy and even though it had been designed with the idea of free movement in mind, Sokka still found himself tripping on the hem from time to time. He marvelled at how Suki managed to not fall over with every step, considering not even Katara wore this much material this close to the ground.

“Stop squirming,” Suki snapped as Sokka tugged at the sleeves of the gown again (there was really no other word for it). “The green represents strength and the golden disks are for honour,” she explained and Sokka blinked. He hadn’t known that they stood for something.

“Strength and honour,” he murmured, standing further upright. That sounded good. That was what a warrior should be: strong and honourable even in the midst of war. Maybe Kyoshi had had the right ideas in mind when she created the warriors. Even the dress didn’t feel that bad, right up until Aang happened to walk by.

“Nice dress Sokka!” he quipped before running off from his fans as they gathered around the doorway.

_And there goes the confidence I was just getting back_ he thought, slumping and blushing in embarrassment at the same time as Suki laughed.

* * *

Zuko was sure that the nightmares were getting worse. Except now, he really _was_ dreaming about Junsuina. He dreamt that he was trapped within a volcano and it grew hotter and hotter as he tried to escape. He would batter himself against the walls and scream at the top of his lungs as the room became hotter still until the magma shot out of the ground and consumed him whole. He would wake sweating in the middle of the night, only to meditate to more dreams of fire and bloodshed by his great-grandfather’s dragon. _This has got to stop_ he thought as they approached the small neutral island. They would arrive sometime in the late afternoon of the next day, but for now he decided that practise was definitely on the menu. And since there was no-one around…

Waterbending was not as hard as people thought it would be for a firebender. If you were taught by the Academy then it would be harder considering they taught that the principles of firebending were based on anger. It wasn’t. He had spent hours with Junsuina fixing all of the bad habits that the Academy had tried to teach him, not to mention Uncle when he had insisted that Zuko learn firebending _properly_ no matter whether he could bend the other elements or not. It had taken until Lu Ten’s death for him to admit that Zuko should bend the way he felt was right. After all, he was the one with the dragon. And so Zuko had taught his uncle that the main principle of firebending was passion. Passion for life, for truth, for loyalty and so the movements were far more graceful than the sharp staccato movements that Zuko had found jarring when in the Academy. It was probably this, more than anything, that meant that waterbending came easier to him than the spirit had thought, since it surprised even him with Zuko’s prowess at the elements.

_“It is almost as if someone has taught you these moves before”_ it said now, sounding curious as Zuko moved through the motions of a particularly complicated kata. It was so early in the morning that even the ghost watch couldn’t stay awake that night. They were approaching Kyoshi Island with some speed and they would be there tomorrow (or technically, later that day) afternoon. Zuko mentally shrugged at the spirit, deftly swirling the water around before sending it in a graceful spiral back into the water.

_You’re the one with the connection to the spirits_ Zuko thought back at him. He could almost feel the spirit pondering this and resisted the urge to shudder. No matter how long he had had to get used to the idea that there was a spirit within his head, it never got any less weird. He sighed and turned to head back and started as he realised that he had been watched by Iroh, who was holding out a cup of steaming tea.

“Here, Prince Zuko. That looked like tiring work,” he said, smiling softly. Zuko took the tea, noticing that he had fixed Jasmine for him _again_. Why his uncle felt the need to constantly make tea was a mystery but at least he made tea that Zuko liked (unless of course it was medicinal tea, which all tasted foul). He took a tentative sip as his uncle came to join him. “You should not practise so much so soon after your accident.” Zuko paused in taking another sip and glanced at his uncle who was looking at him in concern. It was one of those rare quiet moments when they were able to both look at each other and Zuko didn’t feel the need to shrug off his uncle’s affections just to keep up the image of stoic angry prince.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured quietly. “Too many nightmares.”

“About the Agni Kai?” Zuko tried to pretend he didn’t hear the strain in his uncle’s voice, the pain and worry and horror of the events that day. And it was true that Zuko had been having plenty of nightmares in the three years away from home of that fateful day but now he simply shook his head.

“No. About Junsuina.” He didn’t mention that other recurring nightmare, of his great-grandfather’s dragon and the Avatar’s fighting over the world, the Avatar always losing, always falling, always burning… He shuddered and pushed the image away. His uncle blinked, staring out over the ocean waves.

“I am sure that she is fine. After all, she was able to survive the wilderness as a new-born,” Iroh pointed out, but his voice was subdued and Zuko had the feeling that it had been quite a while since Iroh had thought about her. It wasn’t his fault really, with everything else that had happened in the past few years that his uncle would forget a dragon. He was still grieving, no matter how insistent that he wasn’t, over Lu Ten and worried about his nephew not only for himself but for the conspicuously absent Ursa. Zuko couldn’t blame him, after all, he too had his own worries and sometimes forgot about some of his uncle’s as well.

_“You would know if she were in danger, Prince Zuko”_ the spirit murmured and Zuko wrinkled his nose in distaste as he finished the last of his tea, hiding the expression from his uncle with his tea cup.

_Regardless this is a private conversation_ he snapped back at it and felt it recoil slightly to the back of his mind. _Good_ he thought. He hated trying to keep two conversations going at once.

“How long until we reach Kyoshi Island?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. There was a faint calling of earth somewhere in the distance ahead of them and the closer they came, the stronger the pull got. That, and there was also the distinct feeling of something else, something close to the spiritual world ahead of them and he knew it had nothing to do with the Unagi which had snaked its way a couple of times under their ship, as if trying to sense if they were edible. The one time it had poked its head above the waves however, it was met with a face full of fire and had yet to show itself again.

“We shall be there by evening,” Iroh said, his eyes downcast. Zuko got the feeling that he had wished for their conversation to have continued in a similar vein as before but now was about the time that the crew started to wake, and soon, too soon, they would be moving about the deck on their usual business of keeping the rusting wreck moving smoothly. It meant that times like these, tiny precious stolen moments to be just a boy and his uncle were too short and often cut short by an approaching crew member and they were forced to continue to be a Prince and General. No matter what they wanted on the inside. Zuko knew this and Iroh knew this, and yet, somehow, it never made the decision any easier.

* * *

Aang was thoroughly confused by Katara. All day, and much of the previous day as well, she had been constantly griping at him for them to move off of the island, when she had been perfectly content before. But this was somewhere that they were actually wanted, not like her stuffy little village that was falling apart- not that he would _ever_ point that out to her- or the Southern Air Temple with its ghosts and skeletons. A part of him never wanted to leave this place where he was wanted and loved by everyone, where he wouldn’t be left alone again. But Katara was constantly upset by something, annoyed when he brushed off her queries for help and downright _moody_ at the suggestion that he was going to ride the Unagi. Honestly, he had only suggested it in an attempt to impress _her_ , not any of the little girls who had taken to following him. Sure, he _wanted_ to help Katara, but the fan club had taken to pouncing on him at random moments and he had spotted a few out of the corner of his eye just as Katara had asked for help. He had resolved to help her next time but she didn’t ask and refused any of his advances.

And so, he found himself floating in the middle of the bay, waiting for the mysterious Unagi to show up and allow him to entertain the now dwindling audience that was waiting for him on the shore. He remembered the last time he had done this, waiting for the elephant koi to come out so he could impress Katara but she had turned away and run off, just like the rest of them were doing- although he had found out later that she had simply been trying to get Appa to not eat a rather poisonous looking plant that had turned out to be completely harmless anyway. He sighed, watching as the last of them left, with a slight feeling of relief. Maybe now he could get out of the freezing cold waters that felt almost as cold as the iceberg he had woken up in.

“Aang!” He blinked and looked up to find Katara smiling at him from the beach. She looked both relieved and worried at the same time, probably wondering whether or not he would have survived a second meeting with the Unagi. “What are you doing?” She seemed well aware that the water was freezing, her smile beckoning him to come to shore. Internally sighing in relief he grinned and began swimming towards her.

And that was when everything went wrong.

The first thing he noted was the dark shadow, just as before, when a torrent of water shot over his head, practically burying him under the water. _Not again_ , he had time to think before the world seemed to collapse in on itself, and not in a way he recognised as the Avatar State now. _I’m sorry Katara_ he thought as what felt like a pair of arms wrapped around him in the water.

The next thing he knew he was coughing and spluttering, _freezing cold_ but alive. Katara was holding him close and for a moment he felt a strange sense of déjà vu; he had awoken like this when he had been released from the iceberg. Cold, wet and in the arms of the most beautiful girl he had ever known. Katara however, did not look as happy as she had back then though. She was crouching down, holding him close while staring over the bunch of rocks that they were hidden behind. Far off he could hear the groaning of komodo rhinos and the heavy _crunch_ of the sandy shore beneath their feet. An eerily familiar voice was shouting faraway and Aang felt a chill go through him.

Zuko had found them once again.

* * *

The village was too quiet. That was the first thought that ran through Zuko’s head as he and the rest of his crew that had come ashore marched into the ramshackle village on Kyoshi Island. It was not Zuko’s first time here, either as himself or a wandering refugee, but not once had it ever been _empty_. They were planning something, that was for sure. The sun was setting behind the main hut and Zuko narrowed his eyes as he pulled up his mount, alone on the only three komodo rhinos available to them. The rest of his crew were fanned out behind him, grumbling under their breaths where they thought he couldn’t hear them, bunched as they were on the remaining rhinos but now was not the time for reprimanding them.

Zuko scanned the area, noting at least three moving shadows behind huts, one bounding behind a roof, but none that could be the airbender. _Did he leave before I got here?_ He wondered, ignoring the few frightened faces behind windows. There was a soft _shing_ from behind a house as the two rhinos holding his men moved forward, shadows chasing them. _If he has, why would they be…_ Before he could finish that thought, four figures in green jumped from rooftops, knocking at least half of his men off their mounts and surprising the others into complete inaction. _Idiots_ he thought for a moment as another figure in green ran at him. Zuko scowled, bending a few flames in her direction, trying to find where the little airbender might be hiding. The Warrior avoided the flames bent in her direction, opting to attack head on. Zuko growled at the distraction, flicking the reins and causing his own rhino to turn, flinging her in the opposite direction. Disoriented, the warrior stayed down, dizzily reaching for her fans as Zuko bent new flames at her as one of her sisters jumped in front of them. _Wait, isn’t that...?_

_“It is”_ the spirit confirmed in an amused tone as another warrior jumped him, distracting Zuko just enough that he almost instinctively shoved her away with air. _Now is NOT the time_ he snapped in its direction, flinging the girl- this one being _definitely_ a girl- away from him as her two fellows caught up with her. Time to fight off the rhino. His men seemed to be regrouping, so perhaps not as stupid as he had first thought, and the Kyoshi Warriors were not exactly a group to be trifled with.

Dismounting the rhino, the faint echo of earth calling up to him, Zuko regarded the few warriors ahead of him. _One headdress of a leader, two lieutenants and one inexperienced Water Tribe boy_ Zuko noted, eyeing them carefully. It didn’t look as if the boy ( _Sokka_ the spirit gently reminded him, which Zuko ignored) had brought his boomerang with him so there was no chance of strange flying things coming at him from the blind spot that was peripheral vision on his left side. The warriors, however, seemed quite happy to attempt to take advantage of this.

“Where is he?” Zuko demanded, a hint of anger in his tone. He didn’t want to burn anything in the neutral village. If Kyoshi Island wanted nothing to do with the war, then he sure wasn’t going to bring it to them. All he needed was the Avatar and they would be gone. _Surely,_ they would have the sense to-

“You won’t get your hands on him!” the leader stated, charging at him, another warrior leaping from his left. Zuko internally growled and slid ever so slightly right, twisting in a way to avoid her sister warrior and the leader herself. One flame punch later and a spinning kick sent the warriors down around him. He saw Sokka gritting his teeth, rising…

“Looking for me?” Zuko turned to the high octave of the Avatar’s voice, painfully young and naïve, to where the boy stood behind him, shadowed by the setting sun. _He’s got no staff on him, probably with the bison, but where’s the waterbender?_ Not that it mattered too much- one untrained waterbender was hardly going to stop him, last meeting notwithstanding. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the warriors being distracted by the rest of his crew, having finally managed to bring themselves back into some semblance of order and keeping the rest from getting in the way of this rematch. From what he knew of Aang’s bending, they would only get in the way and be unintentionally hurt. _And where have you been?_ He thought about demanding but the spirit decided to answer for him. “ _Down at the beach. Aang cannot resist the attempt to ride something so dangerous.”_

“You tried to _ride_ the _Unagi_?!” Zuko shouted, amazed at this boy’s idiocy. And then realised that he had just shouted that out loud at the Avatar’s surprised flinch, hands half raised as if waiting for an attack. Clearly, he wasn’t expected a scolding. _Well, I got this far, he might come with me if he thinks I’m a friend._ “Are you _insane_?”

“Ummm… it seemed like fun?” the Avatar seemed very confused, as did the waterbender who had just caught up with him.

“Don’t pretend to be concerned! You’re not going to get your hands on him!” she shouted, water wavering from a water skin hung at her side. _At least she’s practicing._ It wouldn’t be honourable to fight a non-combatant and after all _he_ hadn’t been the one to involve all these people. No one had to get hurt.

“Concerned is the least of my worries,” Zuko growled, slipping into a bending stance, hoping that he wouldn’t give himself away. At least none of his crew seemed to have noticed his slip up and Uncle was back on the ship to have heard. “I’ll make you the same offer again. If you come with me, no one will get hurt.” Aang looked conflicted but the Water Tribe girl scowled, giving her answer.

“No! I won’t let you!” Water whipped towards his face and Zuko dodged to the left, ignoring the internal want to throw it back in her face. Fair enough, if that was what she wanted…

A foot hit him in the back sending him to the floor. Blinking dust from his eyes, Zuko cursed himself for forgetting the Kyoshi Warriors. _Never turn your back on an enemy, you should know this!_

_These women are not Azula_ the spirit started, before Zuko growled at it both internally and externally, spinning on his hands and kicking out his opponent’s feet from under them. _Shut up!_ Assailant on the ground, new opponent jumping towards while someone shouted, “Here Aang!” Ignoring the Water Tribe warrior in the dress for the moment in favour of the leader, to exchange a flurry of fists and fire. _Where the hell is Jee?_ That thought got cut short as just as the leader was defeated, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he was blown off his feet _yet again_. The world spun dizzyingly and Zuko landed, disoriented, on wood. _Wood…?_ Swallowing back nausea from _that_ horrific tumble, internally checking for major injuries, Zuko pulled himself to his feet to discover that not only had the Avatar thrown him into someone’s _house_ , having gained a pair of war fans from _someone_ , but he had also just added fuel to any fire leftover from him or his crew. Before he could get back into any kind of fight, the Avatar’s bison landed, just long enough for the three to clamber on and took off. Internally sighing, Zuko attempted to judge the amount of flames that would need putting out. _If I can get Jee and a few of the others to help, Kyoshi can keep its neutrality and Uncle might be able to help put towards the cost of rebuilding..._

Water splashed down on him, soaking him through but also snapping him out of any residual dizziness. _What the…?_

_“I believe Aang has just given you one less job to do.”_ The spirit sounded oddly amused as the idiot of an Avatar, stood on the top of a not-so-happy Unagi forced the darn thing to spit water over the town once again. Scowling at the end to a horrific day, Zuko ignored it.

“Jee! Move out!” Fine, if the Avatar wanted him to ignore this mess, then he would do just that. “Follow the Avatar!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll admit it- this chapter is more filler than anything else. But I wanted to include Suki and the others before running right ahead into more story, so here we are. However, while this chapter might be shorter, the next will be longer and also jump ahead quite a bit. Book 1 is great, but it is more filled with getting to know the characters than anything else, so I'm skipping over some significant chunks for the next part of the story because after the Winter Solstice is where we really start to leave the main thread of the original plot and run right into the more AU part of this story (although not too much).
> 
> Anyhow, hope you enjoyed, and I hope to have chapter 4 up at some point. It's in the works.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, for those wondering, a few notes about this chapter:
> 
> Two years ago, it took me forever to decide on names for the dragons, especially as they will be an integral part of this story. I did just make them up at first, as I've done for a number of minor characters in this story, but then decided that they would have to mean something, especially with their roles to this story (although side-note, they were run through Google Translate so don't hate on me if the translations are not 100%). So after playing around with many languages, 'Junsuina' means 'pure' in Japanese and 'Lengku' was 'unfeeling' in what Google categorized as Simple Chinese. In a later chapter there is a dragon named 'Kirai' which translates to 'hate' in Japanese (you'll understand why when you meet them). I was trying to match characteristics of their spirit brother/sister as well as aspects of their own characters- for this, I do not feel that Azula is entirely hateful, more she suppresses her feelings for things or convinces herself that she can use feelings for others against them. Anyhow, this is getting long so I shall leave it here for now.
> 
> Another important thing to note is that this fic was originally inspired by a different fic on FanFiction.net called Embers by Vathara, which is epic and you really should read it if you haven't already. I say this as their writing style actually influenced how this fic was written to I felt the need to put a disclaimer in here, although as I said it was inspired by and not a copy, so no complaints there please.
> 
> Hopefully I haven't bored you with this opening chapter. It was more of a set-up prologue than anything and, yes, for a while this does follow the timeline of the show for a while, drags in some concepts from the comics that I like and a whole bunch of stuff but veers off wildly by the time we reach the end of Book 1, however I will be keeping the simple structure of the show of three 'books' so this is only part 1 and will be part of a series. I like that format better so it will be broken down into three chunks as the chapters (if you cannot tell, the chapters are long- and I mean on average the actual chapters are either on par or about twice as long as this prologue) in order to make the story more manageable for everyone.
> 
> Anyhow, hope you have enjoyed this opening and I will update as soon as I can!


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